Under a Madman's Reign
by Trainalf
Summary: "Not all of us were bad. Most of us were just caught in his plan. Some of us even fought against it." NRA leg of my Days of Ruin Trilogy. Accepting OCs. Rated T for violence and language.
1. Prologue

Author's note: I've mentioned in my other story that I intend to do an entire trilogy based from the views of troops in each of the three main factions. I decided to do the NRA leg next, seeing as it has the most connections with the 12th Battalion leg. For those who don't know, I make the prologue set in the faction's darkest hour, but the first chapter will actually start before the meteors.

I've been contemplating the idea for a NRA fic for a while now. Surely there were some honest (or at least decent) soldiers caught beneath Greyfield, so what about them? What did they go through?

X Western Lazuria X

Darkness choked the air surrounding one of Lazuria's largest military bases, cutting off visibility for anyone within only two yards. Built around part of an artificial inland sea, the facilities were responsible for building, repairing, and equipping some of the Lazurian Navy's biggest and most hard-hitting ships. Its existence was common knowledge.

But what wasn't common knowledge was that this complex also housed one of two of the world's most deadly missile complexes. However, these missiles were now locked far underground behind closed doors, as they had been for over a year since the world was nearly destroyed. But certain individuals were trying to change that.

1 story underground, a lot of activity buzzed in front of a large, reinforced blast door. Thin soldiers clad in equally thin but effective body armor worked on opening the door in question. Several worked on the two terminals flanking the door, while others carried supplies to and from the surface. To a outside observer, it almost resembled a colony of ants working to build a hill. Only one out of place figure stopped this illusion.

Behind the gray soldiers, a large, round man in a red Admiral uniform paced back and forth feverishly. Every few seconds, he would glance up at the soldiers with a disapproving expression. This continued for only two minutes before the Admiral, purple-faced, approached one of the soldiers standing guard with his rifle.

"You!" The Admiral snapped. "Why the blast is this taking so long?" He demanded.

"When the meteors hit the planet a year ago, they destroyed the world." The soldier began.

"You think I didn't know that already?" The Admiral's face turned a shade of red.

"They also knocked out most of the complex electronics." The soldier went on, ignoring the man's anger. "In order to access the missiles, we have to replace the components. There are thirty levels to the facility. It'll take us a day per level, and 10 to reprogram the Caulder missiles." Perhaps noting the man was not patient, the soldier went on. "These are the most powerful missiles in existence. If you have them, you can't be defeated." The Admiral seemed to calm down only slightly, and instead stalked back over to resume his pacing. He would've ordered them to work faster, but as much as it irked him to admit it, they weren't actually his soldiers; his forces were back on the surface. All he could do is wait.

An officer wearing a similar red uniform rushed down the ramp and past some soldiers carrying back a crate. Panting, he stumbled to a start in front of the Admiral. "Admiral Greyfield, sir!" He wheezed. "They found us. The Wolves found out about the missiles!" Admiral Greyfield stiffened, but melted back into calmness; panic was for the weak.

"How?" He demanded. The wolves were a poor, ragged excuse for an army. The fact they could find out about the missiles, let alone find them so quickly, was inconceivable.

"We don't know sir, but they're all there. The navy can't see a damn thing. This is going to be a land battle, sir." The last part made the Admiral see red again. Those infernal Wolves had beaten his army, which he had found to be full of weak, simple-minded fools, time and time again. He knew he could count on his navy, but now they were just as useless!

"I see…I shall take personal command of my troops myself." He declared. "It is time they saw what a strong leader looks like!" He strode dutifully back towards ground level. The officer hesitated, and then followed reluctantly. He held his doubts in only for fear of his life.

X

In one of the ports, several cruisers and gunboats belonging to the navy sat still and quiet, their crews sleeping off several days of stressful sailing and hunting.

Near one of the dry docks, two gunboats drifted out of the darkness, their engines cut off to prevent them from blowing their cover. On the boats, the crew and the soldiers they carried all used paddles to project the small boat to a ladder. Once one of the boats was close, the troops aboard began to climb up.

"Let's try and stay quiet Marines." Their leader said, pulling himself up onto the concrete. His red-tinted uniform blended in slightly with the weathered stone.

"You know me, Yankee." One of the other Marines pulled himself up. "I'm always quiet."

"Tell that to the building you blew up the other day, Bulldog." A female Marine pulled herself up.

"Whatever you say, Lucky." The Marine replied.

"Keep it quiet." The squad leader repeated. They all slunk over to a nearby wall, drawing their weapons as they did. The other gunboat slunk up and more soldiers, their uniforms carrying a blue tint, climbed up with speed and joined the Marines at the wall.

"Well, Rube," The Lazurian naval infantry sergeant looked at the Marine, "Let's just see how 'fearsome' you really are." The Marine grinned back at him.

"We got an axe to grind with these NRA bastards just as much as you do." He said. "No one messes with the Wolves and goes unpunished. So lets finally put the past behind us, and focus on the future, eh?" He extended a hand. The Sergeant looked at the Marine's hand crucially for several seconds before shaking it.

"For a better future." He agreed.

"Won't be easy." A Lazurian private said. "There must be two fleets worth of ships here. Look." He pointed to a massive shape anchored some yards away, its massive form only visible by several lights glowing on its deck.

"The Hellhound." The Lazurian Sergeant growled at the battleship. "She's killed many of our people."

"Well, you can get some payback." The Marine Sergeant suggested. "The NRA has been bullying people for too long now. Today, they all die."

X On the NRA Carrier _Odin_ X

"It's not fair! Why are we the ones that are going to die? We tried to re-establish everything! We fought to stop war all together. They're the ones who freed the prisoners and killed their own people! So how come we're the ones who'll die, not them?" Her black hair stopped waving and she stared at us for an answer.

_"At least she finally shut up..."_ I thought. I knew Madeline went well, but she just didn't know when to be quiet. _"She always complains about everything." _Her assessments of a situation were usually good; she just couldn't come up with a next step, and she usually wasn't calm about it. This wasn't a time to be irrational. Success was linked to positive thinking. At least _I _knew as much. Madeline flopped back down onto her bunk.

"Why don't we just run like we should've when this whole mess started?" A voice called from the top bunk above Madeline. I rolled my eyes at the suggestion. _"But where do we go? Hmm?" _Kayla never thought these things through; she didn't have the brain for it; she always stayed in the present or the past. Plus, she seemed to have forgotten everything that already happened, as well as everything that _could_ happen. _"She's not fit to be making suggestions. I better say something before she poisons everyone's mind."_

"Well I think we should stay." I stood up. "Are we honestly going to let a bunch of traitors beat us? The 12th Battalion is nothing but a bunch of idiots in rags. The Lazurians with them aren't any better. They haven't even a fraction of the equipment that we got. And we've always won, so why stop now?" I finished.

"Vera has a point." Someone commented above me. I smirked.

"_A true friend." _Heather always had my back since the day we met. She was smart, she was ambitious, and she realized value of effort and looking ahead. It really was unfortunate she was just my co-pilot; she had had the potential to be so much more; we both had.

"We've gained so much." Heather went on.

"Exactly!" I put my fist in my palm. "Remember how far we've come, how much we've done. And remember what's on the line here. This will be the last time in the history of humanity that war occurs, and all we have to do if wipe out the last of them. Just like the Admiral told us." They all nodded their heads uneasily.

"But it doesn't feel right." Kayla interrupted. "We fought along side them for so long- when we got shot down and captured, it was 12th Battalion troops that rescued us." I felt a slight pang inside my chest. Then I shrugged. What was done was done.

"That was the past. They've started acting illogical since then. We should probably be thankful nothing happened to us when we were with them."

"They all seemed so nice though…" Kayla hung her head down. I suppressed a sigh. Why couldn't she see anywhere beyond the past?

"I don't care if they helped us." Madeline crossed her arms. I started to smile. Finally, some logic. "As good as they are, we'll probably get ourselves killed." My smile faded. I should've known it was too good to be true. "Remember that old fighter pilot they have? He shot down the same Ace that killed 23 of the NRA's best pilots. And those helicopter troops of theirs? They broke us out of a heavily guarded base-"

"And in case you've forgotten, there's more of us then there are of them." I blew a blond strand of my hair off my face in agitation. _"Though she does have a point."_

"It's not like we have a choice." Heather jumped down from the bed and brushed her brown hair out of the way. "I don't think they'll accept a surrender." I nodded.

"We never should've signed up for this program in the first place." Kayla said. "I don't like the military anymore, it's been too chaotic." I closed my eyes.

"_It has been…" _I opened my eyes. _"But too bad."_ I turned to her and softened my voice slightly; it was common ground even if I didn't consider her that smart. "I know…but it's over now. All we can do is focus on the future." I tried to avoid an aggravated tone.

"Okay…and just how do we stop that many troops on our own?" Madeline asked. "In case you haven't forgotten, there aren't many professional troops left here; it's just militia and mercenaries."

"If we get the entire squadron together, it'll be possible." I insisted.

"Five aircraft can take out most of their best equipment." Heather added.

"Five?" Kayla's mouth twisted up in a grin. "So we aren't taking the hag with us?" Everyone in the room laughed. I think we could take a break to insult our commanding officer.

"_She's unbearable, I swear her being stuck in the sick bay is the best thing that's ever happened to us."_

"No, but I'm going to go talk to the others, we'll need their help." I made my way towards the door, and realized they'd started following me.

Madeline said. "They might agree more if we come along."

"Thanks." I tried to smile. Some positive reinforcement would help my case. And besides…they could try explaining it to _him_, cause I wasn't. _"I am NEVER talking to him again."_

"You okay?" I realized I was grimacing.

"No, I'm fine." I insisted. I reached for the door handle. "Let's just go talk to the others.

"Sorry ma'am, you can't just yet." I nearly jumped out of my skin. A sailor was standing in the doorway with his hand raised to knock. He put it back down. "The Captain is calling all combat pilots together immediately."

"What happened?" Heather asked. "Did Captain Ryman come up with a plan already?" The idea was surprising; the fleet commander had been out of it for the past few days.

_"Of all times to crack, he had to do it now."_

"No idea, ma'am, but the Captain seemed on edge. If I had to place my month's pay on it-" his mouth twisted upwards at the hidden, inappropriate joke- "I'd say something big is about to happen."

"Big how?" Madeline asked.

"Big like a revolt."

X Near the NRA Headquarters X

"This is NOT good." I stretched my arms out, but it barely made any more room. I wished we had something better to hide under then a Humvee. But what choice did we have? They would be here any second! _"What did I do to deserve this?"_

"This is horrible." Russell agreed. "Nate, how'd we get here again?"

"Well, let me see." I tried to play out the last year and a half in my mind. "Our parents sold us to the army, the world got destroyed, we get forced into a war, we win the war, a couple of crazy people free the prisoners and escape, and now we're hiding under here because said crazies and prisoners are here and trying to kill us."

_"All because of one lousy mistake." _

"This sucks man." Russell said acidly. "That fire was a accident! Did our folks listen? No! They sold us out. And now we're going to get shot. This is all your fault." He added bitterly.

"My fault?" I said, affronted. "You bought the damn thing!" _"Yeah, blame me. You had nothing do to with it, asshole." _

"Yeah, and you should've made sure it wasn't broken before we used it!" He retorted.

"Found them!" A female voice called behind us.

"_Not her again!" _We both shouted in terror as a hand seized each of our legs and dragged us from our cover. _"Not again!" _We both grunted as a heavy foot stood square on each of our backs.

"Damnit Carla, get your man feet off us!" Russell squirmed pointlessly. I winced, as the boots seemed to dig in.

"I thought you boys outgrew this behavior?" A brunette leaned down in front of us, watching our faces with bemused eyes. My face started burning.

_"Quit staring at me, I don't need any help." _She never seemed to get the fact.

"After all the fighting we've done, you're gonna run away now?" Carla asked from above.

_"Yes, so we can get away from you."_

"Carla, Macy, you can both shut it." Russell growled. "I've had enough of this. I am not going to face those guys. There are at least 2000 other fanatics here that'll do it."

"We aren't fighting the 12th or the Lazurians." A new face announced. I craned my neck to the side to watch our Sergeant approach, a rifle in each of his hands. I felt a bit relieved; he was never that hard on us.

"Sgt. Campbell?" Carla asked.

"I said we ain't fighting them. Let them up." He waved his arm. I gasped as the weight left my back.

"Get up, shorty." Carla hauled me up.

_"Bitch. Just because I'm shorter then you doesn't mean you have to remind me every day" _I shrugged her off. A rifle was pushed into my chest. I took it with reluctance. _"I hate using this thing."_

"I know you boys never wanted to join in the first place, but just bare with us for a few more hours." Sgt. Campbell handed Russell his rifle, but he refused to take it.

"You can forget it." He shook his head. "We've been fighting the past year. I'm through. Let all those idiots out there fight. We're not doing anymore fighting, right man?" He looked over at me. I felt my resolve stiffen. Why give in just because they found us again?

"Why should we? In case you guys have noticed, things have fallen apart." I tried not to look nervous. _"They can't keep forcing us to stay forever." _They'd have to let us go eventually.

"Yeah, and we're about to fix it; General Stanhope has called a meeting for all remaining regular army forces." Sgt. Campbell changed the subject suddenly. As important saving my own skin was, I couldn't help but feel slightly curious.

"How many is that? 400 guys?" Russell said sarcastically. "The regular army died a while ago. It's just those fanatics out there."

"Last time I counted, it was 578 men, most of them from our division. Now come on, unless you'd rather be dragged there?" I deflated a little of the inside; we weren't getting out of this one. If we resisted, it'd just lead to more embarrassment. Grumbling, we both reluctantly followed.

"Nervous?" Macy asked me. My face went red again.

"Yeah." I admitted, not looking directly at her. "We aren't soldier material, you know that."

"Nonsense." She said. "You two have fought pretty well up till now. You just insist on being the outcasts."

"That's what we are." I said flatly.

"As long as you think you are, you will be. Are you just scared?"

"No!" I scoffed. "Its just…things have just been weird the past few weeks. The rebellions, the prisoners, and now we've been dragged out here with some promise of things finally smoothing out. I just don't buy it. Things aren't going to fix themselves just like that." I insisted.

"Smart thinking." Macy smiled. "If it means anything, I don't want to fight them either. The 12th are good people. I'm sure they had a good reason for what they did." I glanced at her in surprise.

"…They shot at us. They saved the people that have spent decades trying to kill us. What could possibly make sense about that?"

"Well, they didn't just do it for the hell of it." She pointed out.

"Everything's just been crazy lately. I don't like it." I shook my head.

"You'll be fine." She put a hand on my shoulder.

"If I survive the fight." I grumbled.

"I don't think we'll be fighting, at least not anyone competent." Sgt. Campbell said from ahead.

"And why is that?" Russell spat.

"We should've deployed thirty minutes ago. General Stanhope defied that order; that's why he's calling us together." I almost stopped in surprise. Not following orders? That had severe penalties. What was happening?

"…He did?" Even Russell was thrown off.

"Yeah." Sgt. Campbell looked up into the darkness. "It seems like everything has been building up to this moment." He said quietly.

"Ready shorty?" Carla called. I almost threw back a insult, but stopped when I realized she wasn't trying to antagonize me.

"I suppose." I said as we neared the assembly area. "I just wish I knew what to be ready for."

"What you should be ready for-" Sgt. Campbell turned and faced us "-is a rebellion."

XX Author's note XX

Some may have noticed this story is rated T, while my other one is rated M. I intend to keep this one T. While I'm going for a gritty, violent, and vulgar experience in that one, I want to try and keep this one cleaner and simpler. I also want to try lesser extreme characters. As of now, there is no plan to change that.

Now for my OC policy: Two small groups of people can't win an entire war, let alone three wars. They will no doubt work with other characters along the way, ranging in role and type. As a show of thanks to my readers, I will gladly use any character ideas they have ideas for. Simply send them in via private message with their roles, appearance, weapons, locations, ect. I will also gladly accept names for ships, tanks, or aircraft squadrons (with the nature of part of the story, ships would be very much appreciated). And I will accept OCs here even if you already submitted some to the other story. Lastly, all three of the stories are inter-connected; meaning characters may appear in more then one. The squad on Marines mentioned earlier in this chapter was OCs submitted by user **boomer101**. While user **SkyFighter **submitted the Battleship mentioned. Both were submitted in the other story, and used here with permission.

Edit: 8/10/12. I'm adding the bios to the end of this, because I've learned that the bios on their own as a chapter was against the site rules.

X Character Bios X (Informationis valid at the beginning of the story) Some characters also may have not appeared in the prologue, and some might not be included for reasons to be explained. These are really just to create a basic visual of the character. My main vision in this particular leg would be non-soldier personalities in soldier's role, as they would no doubt respond to war much differently then a soldier who'd been expecting the day.

NRA Carrier _Odin_ Carrier Fighter Wing.

Vera Cavender

Height: 5 foot 8'

Hair Color: Blond

Eye Color: Green

Age: 18

Bio: She was born as a only child to a wealthy business couple. Always at the top in academics, she was always ahead even at a early age. She joined the Rubinelle navy through a scholarship offer only as a stepping-stone to higher goals.

Personality: She is self-centered and considers herself a nature born leader. She is usually very proper and professional, a result of her upbringing, and has a very strong sense of identity. She prefers to keep her true opinions to herself. She has a difficult time forming actual bonds with people, as she often sees many of them as below her, though she still gets along well with them. She can be cold to people when she considers them too lowly.

**Heather Waites**

Height: 5 foot 9'

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Green

Age: 19

Bio: Always gaining top scores at all of the charter schools she attended, she was always granted special attention. Due to a unknown incident, she nearly failed her last year. Though she passed, she did lose most of her scholarship offers. She shortly there after enlisted in the Rubinelle navy scholarship program with the hope of going on to study finances.

Personality: Similar to Vera, she is very profession and proper. She is more laid back and enjoys relaxing whenever the opportunity arises, though she prefers not to discuss them.

Madeline Durant

Height: 5 foot 8'

Hair Color: Black

Eye color: Blue

Age: 18

Bio: She was the last of three kids born to a pair of Fire Fighters. Though encouraged to follow in her parent's footsteps. She preferred to aim for a higher goal. She enlisted in order to go to college, though she has yet to choose a subject to study.

Personality: She is friendly and supportive, and will usually follow her friends in any instance. She is overly cautious and rarely takes the initiative, a side effect of her parent's overdone emphasis on safety and caution.

Kayla Saaverda

Height: 5 foot 10'

Hair Color: Brown

Age: 19

Bio: She grew up in the city, passing her education with slightly above-average standards. After graduation, she joined the scholarship program at the suggestion of a recruiter, agreeing with a simple 'sure'.

Personality: She in still a care free teenager at heart, though she does take certain matters seriously. She often improvises, and doesn't plan ahead much.

Myra Kerrigan

Height: 5 foot 10'

Hair Color: Black

Age: 24

Bio: Losing both of her parents in the Great War, she spent several years of her childhood in an orphanage before being sent to a private school, then military school, courtesy of the Rubinelle Government.

Personality: She has a distorted view of life that closely resembles Superiority complex. She has a natural distrust of other people, actually a side effect from her days at a orphanage. She expects nothing but perfection and complete obedience for rules and superiors.

Josh Harren

Height: 6 feet

Hair Color: Brown

Age: 19

Bio: He is the son of a influential political leader on one of the channel islands under Rubinelle control. He always attended the best schools, and always passed, though only with the bare minimum. He enlisted with the goal of going to college to fill in his 'old man's shoes', to much skepticism from others.

Personality: He thinks highly or himself, and often overstates his abilities, which later ends in mishap. He has a very poor grasp of how other people think. He is not hesitant to speak his mind, which also gets him in a lot of trouble.

Vincent Schoenfeld

Height: 6 foot'1

Hair Color: Copper

Age: 18

Bio: His father was a general store clerk and his mother a maid. He grew up listening to stories from his uncle, a Great War veteran. He enlisted with the goal of becoming a career soldier after collage.

Personality: He is quiet but thoughtful, observing everything that goes on around him. He is slightly anti-social, but easy to start a conversation with.

David Blazer

Height: 6 foot' 2

Hair Color: Brown

Age: ?

Bio: ?

Personality: He is a serious person, and lacks any sense of humor. Once set on a task, he can be ruthless on the path to accomplishing it. He is very hospital otherwise, and will gladly help out if asked.

Amy Kowol

Height: 5 foot' 7

Hair Color: Black

Age: 17

Bio: She was raised mostly buy her mother, who was a stockbroker for a major manufacturing company. Later on, she often helped her mother with the trade, sometimes missing school, and eventually sought to go to college to formally follow the career.

Personality: She can highly competitive and aggressive to the point it is dangerous for the opposing party, though she rarely shows this side. Otherwise, she is very cheery and social.

**Tanya Calusen**

Height: 5 foot' 7

Hair Color: Red

Age: 17

Bio: Being the 7th child in a rather large extended family, she wasn't given much attention as a child, and often had to compete for what little there was. She joined in memory of one of her older brothers she was attached too, but died in a traffic accident before he could enlist.

Personality: She is very shy, and doesn't talk to others unless spoken too. She is very quiet about her goals, and her whole life in general.

Hannah Audette

Height: 5 foot' 8

Hair Color: Blond

Age: 20

Bio: Her father left at a early age, and her mother was more of a friend then a parent, so she grew up mostly with little influence or discipline. She enlisted simply because she didn't have anywhere else to go.

Personality: She has a slight authority problem, as well as a few disciplinary ones, both of which get her in trouble with her superiors. She enjoys socializing with others, but not much her job, which is why each passing day gets her closer to a discharge.

49th Airborne Division

Nate Archey

Height: 5 foot 6'

Hair Color: Black

Age: 17

Bio: He always earned credit as a slacker, never putting too much effort into things and instead spending his time relaxing with friends, though often playing spectator rather then participant. He was sent into the army as alternative punishment to prison.

Personality: He is reclusive, preferring to stay away from anything big or public. He doesn't usually aim for anything higher then the bare minimum. He has a sense of self-preservation that often causes him more harm then good.

Russell Grey

Height: 6 feet

Hair Color: Brown

Age: 17

Bio: He earned the title of 'black sheep' and 'hooligan' fairly early in life, whether from his first arrest at age 12 or the fact he failed two grades in as many years is debated.

Personality: Though not book smart, he can surprisingly knowledgeable on human behavior. He is not serious about anything but saving his own skin. He is very creative on ways to pass the time, though some ideas may turn out to be bad ones.

Macy Powell

Height: 5 foot' 9

Hair Color: Brown

Age: 20

Bio: She was the older sister to 4 brothers, and often played care taker and peace keeper to them, which cut into her academic and social life for much of her early years. She enlisted as a opportunity to broaden her horizons.

Personality: She was a very caring personality, particularly to those younger to her. She is very social, talkative, and occasionally nosy personality.

Carla Bellus

Height: 6 foot' 3

Hair Color: Black

Age: 21

Bio: Her 'unique' appearance resulted in her being taunted frequently as a child, though these experiences only made her stronger. She enlisted at the same time as two of her brothers. While one failed and the other ended up in a lowly position, she was commissioned as a Corporal very quickly.

Personality: She has a commanding personality and is not afraid to take charge. She can be dangerous when angry, and does not appreciate back talk or disrespect of any sort. She can show sympathy, but only if she believes they've deserved it.

XX Author's Note XX

I believe variety is good for these types of stories. It adds several factors to interaction between characters, and it also means each will develop differently as the story progresses.

I will admit some of the characters are influenced by figures in various forms of media, and some are even modeled after characters in the game. Though most of the traits are modeled after people I have known (which makes me question myself actually).


	2. Just another day

XX Author's Note XX

Well, has to start somewhere, though I'll admit beginnings aren't my best area, so please bare with me. If any of the military facts portrayed in the following story are incorrect, I apologize; I researched them to my highest ability.

X Vera X

Planning is essential to everything; without a plan, you have little hope to succeed or advance anywhere in life. The meteors? The war? The revolt? Admittedly, none of those were in my original plan, but I adapted and made a new plan when my old one being obsolete.

Before the entire mess, I'd had a much bigger goal in mind: politics. I'd always been on the top of my studies, and I seemed to have a certain charismatic touch that drew people under me. So what better job then a leader? When I'd graduated High School, I'd got a scholarship offer to join the navy. It was unnecessary; I'd already gotten more then enough scholarships. But it was beneficial to my interests. What better to improve a resume then military service? And I only had to serve for a year. I hadn't been too worried at the time of my enlistment; I was smart enough to see all the 'tension' between countries was just being exaggerated, and that the chance of war was very low.

Did I enjoy it? No. The lack of space and privacy did make the experience unpleasant, but sometimes sacrifice is needed in order to advance. Adaptability is one of my best traits, though not always prevailing.

I do not believe in dishonesty; the meteors honestly left me clueless for the first time in my life. Any semi-intelligent person would understand that such an occurrence stunned everyone.

The war after them, while sudden, was something I was entirely ready for, at least till we won. I will not justify my actions; I will just say that not everyone involved was bad. Some of us… were just mislead. I do not claim to be proud of some of my actions during that year, but neither do I claim I would rather they never happened. A simple fact was that over the course of the war, we all gained and learned some things.

X The Channel separating Rubinelle and Lazuria X

"Raven 3-3, Raven 3-7, report in." The Carrier Radio room sent in the request over the radio.

"This is Raven 3-7, skies are clear." I replied back. Peacetime military life was very repetitive. Every day for the past 7 months, 2 planes would be selected from the squadron to perform Air Patrol around the Carrier zone. It was very rare that the whole squadron took part in a patrol. The hour-long flight was usually very peaceful; the scenery was worthy of a professional artist, so it wasn't unpleasant unless there were cloudy skies.

"There's a blip on the edge of the radar." Heather called from behind me.

"_Good eye." _ Had I believed the concept feasible, I would've said Heather and me were long lost twins. Even though we'd been born in entirely different hemispheres of the country, we had a surprising amount of similarities: we were both born in August, we both had green eyes, we were both lactose intolerant, we'd both skipped 2nd grade, and we both had thought a year of service would look good on our resumes. The similarities were very odd, but it did make her easier to get along with if her also similar personality didn't already; She thought ahead, she didn't tolerate un-proper behavior, and she understood exactly what was always going on. She was one of the only people I can ever say I got close to. While there were those just as smart as me, they were always more of acquaintances. Heather was different; I could truly call her a friend.

"What kind of planes are they?" Madeline asked, moving her own plane closer to our tail.

_"Nothing to make a fuss about." _Certain skills and professions have sub-sections that must be mastered to be truly fluent in it. When it came to military matters however, Madeline wasn't a passable soldier (my opinion, not the military's, unfortunately). She could fly, no doubt about it, but she showed cautiousness unfitting to her profession. A proper analogy would be a General too unwilling to risk losing his men.

Kayla, who was her co-pilot, was equally incompetent. Though this was more due to lack of seriousness then over-cautiousness. She seemed to believe that it was all just a game. Even I, though not falling for the exaggerated tensions, knew there was actual risk for war. They were both fairly intelligent, just not good servicewomen. But I still got along with them fairly well. Off the field they tended to be slightly immature. Though I suppose that last trait didn't carry enough weight compared to a lot of staff when the officers weren't looking.

"Looks like bombers. What are they doing all the way out here?" Madeline wondered.

"The Lazurian Air Force does bomber patrols." I pointed out. "The idea is risky, but it isn't out of the ordinary."

"Can you confirm if bombers are in our own air space?" Control asked. I quickly looked on my radar.

"Negative, they're at least 20 miles in their own borders."

"Carry on with your patrol." Control ordered. This was a everyday occurrence really; we'd usually catch Lazurian aircraft or ships on our radar, and would have to make sure they weren't invading our territory. Nothing materialized out of these encounters. Three months ago, we'd seen a Lazurian battleship unusually close to an island under Rubinelle jurisdiction, but after a day of staying in the air, the ship had finally left. The day after day routine did start to wear down some, but it was necessary.

Three quarters of an hour later, the uneventful patrol was over and we headed back to the carrier. In the distance, the sun was just beginning to descend below the horizon. The carrier came into view, a lone shape in the vast emptiness of the ocean. It was actually the flagship of a much larger fleet, but for the time being it was traveling on its own to a mainland port for some modernizations; the carrier had originally been built during the Great War, a massive conflict between Rubinelle and Lazuria nearly two decades ago.

In a way, it irked me. The fleet we were assigned to was composed mainly of older ships, and was tasked to a low-risk area. I'd tied with 2 other people as the top of our class. It seemed more common sense to assign those people too more important fleets. But no, my talent was being wasted here.

"Tower, permission to land." Madeline was the first to speak.

"Granted. Wires are ready." Operating from a carrier was for very skilled pilots only. Taking off and landing were maneuvers that required focus and precision; error easily led to death. Equally could error by the crews on the deck; I hated being dependent on others. But I was able, like so many times before, to land smoothly. There was a light jerk as the cable caught the plane and stopped it.

Once they released the cable, I followed the visual cues and guided the plane to the side of the deck where it wouldn't be in the way. The ladder was brought up, and we all disembarked from our planes. Almost immediately we were ushered off the deck and back into the carrier structure; there was no room or reason for us to stay and get in the way.

I sighed uncomfortably at the heat inside of the hallways. Even in the evenings it was hot. At least now I could go wash this sweat off and go to bed. It was the same as I'd been doing since enlisting.

"I wonder how far we are from port?" Kayla said as we walked down to our quarters. "It'd be nice to get off this ship for a while, go to some clubs."

"It should be another two days." I answered. While she would be out at a club, I'd actually be doing something productive, like studying. College wasn't that far away.

"Watch out." Madeline warned as we stepped into one of the hallways. I looked up.

"_Oh great."_ I tried to keep a tight-lipped expression off my face as our Flight Leader started coming our way. Myra Kerrigan was easily the worst human being I'd ever met. She came from a traditionally military family, which she apparently believed was a mark of superiority. Normally, I was never bothered by people like her; I knew that I was already better then them. But this woman, she was worse then I'd ever dealt with.

First off, she showed a complete lack of hospitality or compassion for other human beings. She didn't treat anyone in the squadron with respect. In fact, she all treated us like we were criminals or something. She was always demanding perfection-her definition of it. What it all usually ended with was insults and threats of dismissal. Eventually, she had dismissed someone, but the person in question had been unfit for such a role. I'd already forgotten their names, actually.

Second, her leading style almost resembled a dictatorship. No one could really expect any privacy around her; she always seemed to know where we were and what we were doing. She also seemed to reserve the right to inspect our belongings or quarters whenever she pleased. The last part, I knew, was somewhat within her authority. The first part was unsettling though. Complaining to higher authorities hadn't warranted a response; they had actually had the valor to question if I was just complaining to cover my tracks.

That was another thing I loathed about service: Because of our age, enlistment time, and reason, we weren't treated very seriously. Just because this was temporary didn't mean no effort would be put into it.

"_People judge too much." _Some of the others might not be that devoted, but they shouldn't have judged all of us based on one of us.

Her green eyes narrowed and darted over us as she approached. We all stopped and stood at attention as she stalked past. After she disappeared up the stairs, we kept walking.

"That gets annoying after a long time." Kayla said. "Don't see why we have to do that every time her or her lapdog passes."

"It's actually a widely practiced military rule." I pointed out. _"Rules are rules…even if they're enforced by her."_

"You really need to stop changing sides." She responded.

"I side with the rules." I said simply, turning my head back forward.

"Looks like another cat fight." A pilot commented at the site as he and his co-pilot passed. I huffed under my breath. It wasn't just our commanders; the pilots outside our squad looked down on us too, just because most of us wouldn't be staying full enlistment terms like them. The others weren't that pleased either. Even with several blaring differences, we could all relate to that particular issue.

We finally got to where our flight's quarters were; the inside of a carrier could easily be compared to a maze. One of the doors opened and a brown haired boy tumbled out.

"Why the hell do I always trip in the doorway?" He rubbed his head as he got up. I frowned.

_"What a pathetic waste of life." _

Hey ladies." He saw us and grinned. "Back from patrol already?"

"Do you mind? You're blocking the path." Heather asked in a flat voice.

"Move, Josh." Madeline just ordered him to get out of the way. Some people just didn't deserve any sort of respect. Josh Harren was one of them. Aside from being boastful and uncompassionate to everyone but himself, he was even less serious then Kayla; it was all just a game to him. Even if he talked about college occasionally, I was fairly sure he would never make it. It was amazing he was even still here; He had to be the sole reason our flight wasn't treated with respect. I failed to see why they still hadn't dismissed him.

"C'mon man, just get out of their way." A voice called from inside of the room. That would've been Vincent. He was a simple boy, really. He had the same educational goals as most of us, and he just tried to focus on the task at hand. He didn't socialize and mostly kept to himself. He seemed to think making friends was pointless since after this was all over we'd never see each other again. While I was fine with the last part myself, I wasn't reclusive; all acquaintances usually ended at one point or another. You had to get use to it.

"Show some manners." A hand grabbed Josh's shoulder and effortless pushed him back into the room. The broad figure stepped sideways against the wall and motioned with his hand.

"Thank you, David." I nodded and walked past, ignoring a slight twinge of discomfort. David was…an unusual member of our flight; he just stuck out. Not by his appearance- brown hair and a broad form were fairly common, but more of _who_ he was. He'd got transferred here about two months ago, but we didn't know anything about him, not even his age. Though judging by appearance, he had to be at least 6 years senior to me. He carefully avoided giving information about himself-whether he'd already attended collage, where he was before being transferred- nothing. It was unsettling, as any sensible person should act around the unknown. But he wasn't a bad person.

On the contrary, he was actually very well mannered and treated everyone with respect. He kept Josh in check and he seemed to be the only person Kerrigan showed any lax treatment to. But still, I didn't really want to be in the company of someone I knew little about, so I didn't interact with him too often. In private though, everyone was taking guesses about him, but they usually were just nonsense. Me? He was probably just sent to fill in a spot after someone had been discharged for medical reasons.

"Hey! Back from patrol already?" A lean, black-haired girl skipped up beside us.

"Yeah, but we're pretty sure you got the night patrol, Amy." Kayla patted the younger girl on the shoulder. "Have fun."

"Thanks." She replied, not a change in her tone. Amy was a very interesting character.

_"Interesting and suspicious being interchangeable." _She was very optimistic, but that was mostly a cover. She was very friendly, helpful, and eager to make friends. But Heather and me knew no one was that friendly naturally. Amy was one of those people who you always wanted as a friend, but never as a enemy. She could destroy anyone she pleased, though we'd never seen it happen. The three of us actually got along very well though; such a attitude was very beneficial to a business career. We'd even talked about a sort of…business partnership after we all went to college. Great minds thought alike, and great minds made things happen.

We finally got to the room the four of us shared. It was a small square room, with most of the space being taken up by the two bunk beds on opposite sides of the room. At the foot of each bed were small wooden chests for any possessions the occupants were lucky to own. Bolted on the wall above the doorway was a small television, and in the back was a small bathroom with a paper-thin door. In my opinion, it resembled a prison cell. But we had other means to entertain the long hours we usually spent here.

"This actually gets more and more boring the closer we are to our discharge." Kayla complained as she pulled out some casual cloths to sleep in.

_"Clearly complaining fixes it."_ I rolled my eyes as I pulled out some clothes from beneath a book I studied in my free time.

"Don't worry about it." Madeline shrugged. "All we got to be is wait a little while and we won't have to fly anymore. We'll be free to do whatever we please."

_ "Indeed."_ I smiled to myself. _"Nothing is going to stop me."_

X Nate X

I don't really care what people say. I am not a lazy person. I just never took life as seriously as most people. I just never saw a lot to gain from effort. There are plenty of ways to get by without effort, so why bother? You only live once, so why not relax and have as much fun as possible?

Being in the spotlight isn't really for everyone. I am perfectly fine being as far away from it as possible. I am not a coward, but some people just don't enjoy the big, the bold; There are a lot of people who are happy with simpler lives, like a clerk. I didn't want to see any action; I didn't want to have a role in fixing things. But, having been forced into it, I wasn't really left with any other choice.

The war was the worst thing I'd ever gone through. I will never forget some of the things I saw. There were times I honestly wished I hadn't survived the meteors. But I guess I would be a liar if I said I regretted everything. As messed up as it sounds, I might actually have benefited by what happened. There are a couple of sayings that summed up my experience…But I think the one that was first was 'You don't know what you got till it's gone'.

X

The sunny weather shining against the bus window annoyed me to no end. I was already in a pissy mood as it was; it was like it was taunting me.

_"It isn't fair."_ I thought bitterly. _"It was a accident." _

"I can see that camp!" A recruit yelled at the front.

_"Oh man."_ I did not like those words; they just meant more pain. I'd barely been able to survive basic training. That was another thing that pissed me off about our punishment (military or prison): I was too short, shorter then most people actually. Did that earn me any slack? No.

"Man, this blows." Russell complained from the seat beside me. There weren't many fun people in the world. Luckily, I'd always lived two houses down from one of those people. All the things we'd done together… I couldn't even name all of it. But they had been fun times, and well worth any trouble they'd caused…Well, except for the last incident.

"Yeah, I know. Why Airborne school though? Of all the places they had to send us, it was here." Secretly, I really hated heights. I was willing to bet my parents had suggested it secretly; they'd never really liked me.

"Yeah, why not the Air Force? At least they got all the cool stuff." He agreed. A sign outside was proudly displaying the base as the home of the 49th Airborne Division. "This better not be as bad as basic training." He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. I seriously doubted that it'd be easier.

The bus stopped briefly at the gate before continuing into the base. I could see uniformed troops doing drills. Besides training, this base did hold real troops that would fight if war broke out.

The last thought had seriously been scaring me since we were sentenced. The only thing I heard in the media was how war was imminent. I didn't want to die. I was too young! I could die in a bombing, or I could get shot.

_"I do NOT deserve this."_

"Man, now the fun begins!" Another recruit clapped his pal on the shoulder. The scene agitated me. Fun? We were going to be treated like dirt!

The bus jerked to a stop suddenly. "Off! All of you!" The driver demanded. I reached up and grabbed my bag from the racks above and filed off the bus with everyone else. A line formed in front of the old guy that I assumed was going to tell us where we'd be living. I got in line and pulled the right set of papers from my pocket. It took a while, but eventually it was one turn. The officer observed the paper with interest and then jerked a hand at Russell behind me.

"Yours too, boy." He looked at each sheet. "'Alternative punishment.' You two are partners in crime huh?" He didn't sound as friendly as he had with the guys who went before me. He spit to the side. "Well, I guess I'll have to separate you two so you don't destroy the barracks either."

"Man, it was a accident!" Russell said angrily.

"Vandalism, destruction of private property, and fleeing arrest were all accidental, huh?" His tone only made the scorn worse.

_"Well…At least they didn't keep the arson charge." _Then again, they probably wouldn't have been able to send us here if that was part of the sentence.

"You will be over there." The Sergeant grabbed Russell and pointed to a gray building at the other side of the camp. Block D, room 15. You." He grabbed me and pointed to a building at the opposite end of the camp. "You'll be in Block B, room 3. I am going to be watching to make sure you two don't plan anything. So don't even think about it." He said threateningly.

_"This is stupid."_

"On you ways then." He watched us leave, so we couldn't share a word. Russell gave me thumbs up as the void widened. I gave him thumbs up back. Heck, staying in touch wouldn't be any harder then it had been in detention at school.

Something _whooshed_ over my head, just ruffling my hair. The baseball bounced for a few yards before stopping.

"Hey, did that hit you?" Someone called. I turned to see a couple of soldiers, graduated members, playing baseball. One girl had taken a few steps toward me.

"No, I'm fine." I called back.

"Just throw the ball back, shorty." Another one called. I had already taken a step towards it, and then stopped. My mouth twitched. I did not like being called short in any form; it irritated me to no end. Rather then throw it backs, I just kept on walking towards the barracks. "Hey, little guy! You hear me?"

"Matt, just leave him alone." It was the same girl from before.

"Hey." Before I knew it, he'd already managed to get in front of me. "I know you can hear me down there." I gritted my teeth. "Lose the attitude, you're a soldier now; we watch each others backs." He turned and walked away.

_"Uhh…"_ That wasn't the type of confrontation I was use to; they usually ended in a fight. I suddenly felt embarrassed. I turned and tried to take the quickest route to the barracks, only to find a MP (military police officer) in my way.

"Nate Archey?" He asked. I felt my heart skip a beat. What did I do? Was it about that argument I'd just got into?

"Y-yes?" I asked nervously.

"General Walraven would like to see you. Come along, please." I really had no choice; resisting would've just got me in worse trouble, probably. The General? I'd just got here!

_"Maybe he's going to send me home?"_ I thought hopefully. It was possible, wasn't it? He might have seen that I was probably going to be more deadweight then anything else. I found myself nodded. It was possible. Why else would he call me out soon as I got here?

The General's office was in the biggest building that was in the middle of the base. It was also the most heavily defended. I whistled softly as we both passed a large gun bolted into the concrete outside the main door.

"Anti-air defense." The soldier sitting there caught me staring. "You never know when they'll attack." I swallowed nervously. The whole inside of the building was busy. People brushed by me without even a glance. As it turned out, the General's office was also up a series of stairs. I was already panting when we got to the guards outside his office. The MP left and one of the guards opened the door for me.

"Good luck." He smirked. My confidence diminished slightly. I entered the office. On one side was a large map that showed the coastlines of each country. It also had a lot of pins on it to mark something.

"Sit down." A board voice called. I turned to the desk in the center of the room. A aging man wearing a General's uniform and a pair of glasses was going over some papers. I sat down and waited for him to talk again. That's when I noticed a newspaper lying on the side of his desk. My eyes widened.

_"Oh no."_ I recognized the headline because I'd read the paper before, and I recognized the picture because I was in it. He knew. I felt cold all of a sudden and closed my eyes. _"This is bad."_ What was he going to do?

"So you're the one who burned down a house?" I opened my eyes to see him watching me.

"We weren't trying to!" I insisted nervously. He laughed.

"Calm down, son, this isn't an interrogation."

"Then what is it?" I asked in confusion. "And how'd you get that paper? We live a long way from here."

"My dear old, elderly mother sent it to me," He said. "Along with a letter complaining about 'damn kids' these days." I scratched the back of my head. He didn't sound mad, but that still left the question why he'd called me. "I understand a toy rocket caused the fire?" He asked.

"…Yeah." I admitted. I didn't like talking about it.

"So what happened?" He asked. "Don't worry, it's entirely confidential." He assured.

"Well…uh…" I started talking before I knew it. "We and my friend, we hang out a lot, and one day, he brought over a hobby rocket his uncle had sent him."

_X 2 months ago X_

_ "Man, I can't believe you actually got one of these things." I pulled the platform out of the box. We were both hanging out in the field behind our block. In the other direction were the houses of another block. They'd been talking about turning this into a park, but nothing had happened yet. _

_ "My uncle sends good stuff." Russell nodded. "This is going to be so dang cool. What's this for?" He pulled out a small net. I looked on the box. _

_ "According to this, it's to catch the rocket so it doesn't break when it hits the ground." _

_ "It says here that the rocket goes 150 meters." Russell looked up at me. "How far is that" Though my grades in school weren't all that great, I had a particular talent for math._

"150 meters?"The General interrupted in interest.

"Yeah…" I said uneasily.

_"Should be…all the way to that abandoned house over there." I pointed at a decaying shack. _

"You actually fired it at the house?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No!" I blurted out. "Not exactly…"

_"Hey man, you see that hole in the roof?" He pointed to the garage of the house. I squinted. There was a small hole actually, maybe six feet wide._

_ "Yeah."_

_ "Think you can hit it?" He grinned. I snorted._

_ "I could hit something a lot smaller."_

_ "Prove it." _

_ "10 Dollars." I reached into my pocket. _

_ "Deal!" He reached into his._

"And this all registered in your minds as a good idea?" I could tell by his voice he was insulting us.

"Nothing would've happened if the net hadn't broke!" I shouted in frustration. Everyone kept insulting us. It had been a damn accident.

"Calm down, kid." He lowered his voice. "This is a job offer, so behave." Job offer? "So let me guess: you set the net over the hole, you hit it, but the net gave in and the rocket just fell in and caused the fire?"

_"How did he-"_

"My mother told me the story, but I had to hear it from you before I believed it. Stupidity and brilliance all at once."

_"Brilliance?"_ That was the first time someone ever referred to the incident as that.

"So you aimed and fired the rocket?" He asked.

"…Yes."

"How?"

"Uh…Well, I tilted the stick it was propped against." I said. "Is…there a point to all this? What do you mean by a job?"

"What the point is is that I saw your training schedule. There isn't anything special on it. I don't need infantry; I got plenty. What is under strength at the moment is the field support. Do you know what a mortar is, Archey?" I'd watched a lot of TV and war movies, so I did know what he was talking about.

"Yeah, those are those tubes that you shove a bomb down and it shoots it back out." I said.

"Crude, but true. Power isn't evil, you just make it so." He pointed a finger at me. I ignored the jab. "Any soldier can fire a mortar, but not many can be that damn accurate. I'll cut right to the point: how about I pull a few strings and get you reassigned to field support? The things work just like that rocket you were talking about. So how about it? You do something your good at it, and you stay out off the front line if all hell breaks lose. How about it?" He put his hands together and stared at me for an answer.

To be honest, I was insulted and happy. Happy that someone actually complimented me, happy that someone actually wanted me on their team, and happy that I wasn't getting in trouble. But I was insulting how he told me it was a 'talent'. What would that talent be used for? Killing people? I didn't want to do that!

"Listen kid, it'll mean a lot to every other soldier if they know someone good has their back." He added.

_"Great. Now I feel guilty."_

"I…guess?" Did I really have a choice? I was stuck here anyway. I might as well choose a spot where I was less likely to be killed. Plus, it was actually nice to think people would be glad I was there. The last thought gave me a firm shove. "I'll do it." I nodded.

"Good." He nodded. "I'll write up the order later. Now get out my office!" He raised his voice. It fell out of the chair and hurried over to the door.

"You okay newbie?" One of the guards asked.

"Yeah." I panted. "Didn't expect him to yell." I admitted. The guard shrugged.

"He's a busy man. Don't take offense, though. He does care about the division. He does everything he can to make sure we'll survive if a war breaks out. Need a guide?" He offered.

"No, I'm fine." I shook my head. "I remember the way." As I walked back to where the MP had fetched me, I thought about what had just happened. It was good, right? I'd actually been moved to something more important.

_"Maybe this isn't a bad thing."_ A voice at the back of head suggested.

"Hey. You okay?" A female voice asked. I jumped. A brown haired girl, the same one who'd asked me if I was okay earlier, had started walking beside me.

"Yeah." My face seemed to heat up. I wasn't nervous about girls. I actually did have a girlfriend (one of the only people I really got along with) back at home. She was probably one of the most important people in my life. We actually had a lot of common interests and opinions. We'd kind of been talking about the rest of our lives. Well, only once, and that had been two days before the incident. I hadn't seen or heard from her since then. I tried calling during my 6 weeks at basic training, but no one picked up.

"What was with you back there?" She asked.

"I…really don't like being called short." I said. She didn't seem like to type to make fun of me.

"Oh. Well, he didn't really mean any harm." She tried to convince me. I shook my head. I didn't believe it.

"Look, I'm fine." I said, trying to get her to leave. "Thanks, but the sun is starting to go down, so I need to get going." I started speed walking away.

"My name's Macy. I'll see you around then." She called. I slowed down. I wasn't really a rude person.

"Mine's Nate. See you." I called back. I felt even better afterwards. I'd got a new position from the boss, and people here were already acting friendly to me.

_"This might not be bad at all." _I thought. _"As long as a war doesn't break out, this might actually be fun."_

XX Author's note XX

I know I didn't introduce all of the characters, nor explore the main character's backgrounds entirely, but that'll come. I believe it's for the best. I am trying not to rush character histories or connections like I did in the beginning of my other story. I want to take a chapter or two to help familiarize the reader with the character and their relationships with others.

Trivial facts: In mythology, the god Odin had two Ravens that would deliver him information. The rocket incident was inspired by a actually occurrence that I saw on the news when I use to live in Toledo. Though this incident unfortunately burned down three occupied houses (the occupants escaped) and killed a cat.


	3. Chapter 3

As with the other story, I intend to refer to Rubinelle and Lazurian equipment as their real life counter-parts. That is, American and Soviet tanks, planes, and guns respectively. I try and study each weapon or machine's operation mechanisms and specs before writing about it. I apologize for any incorrect portrayals. I intend to mimic their political systems to a small degree as well.

X Vera X

_'Executive privilege has faced several legal challenges in recent years-_

"Mail!" A sailor knocked at the door. I looked up from my book. Mail, if on time, was delivered at 9 A.M everyday. Madeline answered and came back with two envelopes. She kept one for herself and threw the other in my lap. We were the only ones that ever received mail. I wasn't sure why Heather's parents never wrote to her; most parents should be proud if their child had such a mind and ambition.

Mine was the same as usual: My parents sending their best wishes and saying how proud they were of me. Reading their letters always brought a smile to my face. I retrieved a pen and a piece of paper to write my reply. Before I could write the greeting, however, there was a knock at that door.

"Briefing room in 5 minutes!" A sailor called. I hid a frown. We were usually only called to the briefing room if there was some major development. What could be so important at this point was beyond me. Anything serious would've certainly raised more fuss and easily the alarm.

"_They worry about the most trivial things."_ I put the book away and followed the others.

The briefing room was located near the bridge of the ship, close to the main communication and radar equipment. All the chairs were set up to face a large screen used to display maps and charts. One group occupied each square of the room.

There was one squadron stationed on the carrier: the 387th 'Raven' Naval squadron. The Squadron was separated into four flights- two using fighter aircraft, two using attacking aircraft. Each flight had a additional reporting number in front of their regular number to distinguish their flight. This was standard navy procedure. The Air Force sometimes used it, but preferred squadron as the smallest unit. Our flight was fighter aircraft, and our preceding call sign number was 3. Our plane's call sign was Raven 3-7.

We sat in the front right corner of the room. In the left corner was the other fighter flight. Captain Stancill was the flight lead of well as the Squadron commander. He was a respectable character, in contrast to our 'example' of a flight lead. _"Who's little more then a-_

Howling and laughing interrupted my thought. I glanced behind me in annoyance. _"Hooligans."_ The men laughing composed one of the attack flights. All of them had graduated and were deployed here after the previous group's enlistments ended four months ago. They had the mentality of a bunch of 13 year olds.

In the left back seats was the other attack squadron. They'd already been assigned here for a year when we got here. They were very rigid and approached their jobs with professionalism. Though this fact probably owed to their flight lead, a Veteran, who expected the same discipline he got back in 'his day' as he informally said it. It was a shame most of the recent generations were incompetent.

Also standing in the back of the room were the helicopter and rescue crews. Aside from the fourteen fighters and sixteen attackers, there were three helicopters and specially armed teams for the purpose of rescuing men from sinking ships or pilots who got shot down behind enemy lines. I'd never spoken to them, though I did admire their courage. It was a comforting notion that they were right behind us.

Of course, I wouldn't need their help if a war broke out, but it would be unfair not to acknowledge them.

"So what's the big deal this time?" The owner of the voice yawned. I mentally scowled at the blond sitting in front of me. If it wasn't Josh, Hannah was usually the reason for our bad imagine. I don't think there's a proper or polite term to describe her. She was lazy, pushy, and didn't respect anyone. In the several months we'd been here, seven other recruits had gone through, but they'd either quit or were kicked out. Why they were waiting to do the latter with her was beyond me.

_"If I were in charge, no such characters would even be able to walk into the recruiting office."_

I caught side of two other heads I hadn't seen today. The red headed girl sitting next to David was Tanya. She was a very quiet girl, very shy, very passive. That was the reason she got pushed around so much. I felt pity for her so I was always defending her in those instances. It was a fact of life that some people were below others, but no one should be that low. And yet, I couldn't ever encourage her to anything higher. I guess some people have to be stuck at the bottom.

In the front row, sitting prim and proper next to Kerrigan, was the last member of our flight: Amanda. Three recruits had been assigned as Kerrigan's co-pilot. The first two had quit. Amanda was the third. There's nothing wrong with acting warm towards your superiors, but she was a by the book definition of a kiss up. It actually worked, too; Kerrigan gave her all (well…most, David got some as well) of the special treatment. I didn't like her. Neither did the others, hence why she no longer bunked in the same room as the other girls.

"Brave men and women of the Rubinelle Navy, thank you for coming." A voice said loudly. Everyone went quiet as ship Captain and Fleet Admiral Benny Ryman stepped into the room. He wasn't a Veteran, but he was highly regarded by the political leaders in Rubinelle. He would personally address these meetings usually, and was always checking on the status of his troops. He was a good man, though a bit excessive if you asked me.

"While our ship is still a few days from its destination, we still must maintain combat readiness." He stated. He motioned to the Air Wing intelligence officer, who set out several maps on the projector. The first one showed a part of the coast, the waters off it, and several islands in the channel. "We are currently in the area of operations the 14th Rubinelle fleet is responsible for. That would be Admiral Hamilton. He's in military court at the current time. That's because he's very active in protecting this region. There have been a lot of incidents in this area. It's very tense."

_"What a overaggressive political hack." _

"We are, therefore, taking appropriate precautionary measures." He said. At another wave of his arm, the intelligence officer put on another map. This one showed a much smaller area, with the carrier's current location at bottom and in the center of the map. He pointed to two points north of the carrier, several dozen miles apart. "The entire Squadron will be sent up on this patrol." He said. Everyone sat up straighter.

I focused intently on the map. Considering the tension in this area, we would have to be very precise to avoid problems with either friendly forces or Lazurians who picked us up on their radar.

"_No need to give them anything else to make a big deal out of."_

"A fighter wing and a attack wing will fly together with a full load of munitions. Everyone will have to be alert during these patrols. Understood?"

"Yes sir." The room said as one.

"Good. Your planes are being prepped as we talk. Go take care of any business and get your flight suits on. I want everyone in the air within the next 10 minutes."

"Yes sir." Everyone got up to leave. Being furthest from the exit, we were the last out.

"No messing around." Kerrigan warned. "You have a minute to get ready." She promised. She didn't make threats; she made promises. If she said something, she meant it. Humiliation and awkward situations were usually the result of challenging her. She said we had only a minute in our rooms, so that meant we only had a minute. Which is why I threw up my flight suit with hurry and Madeline and Kayla had a brief argument over who would get to use the bathroom.

I was back out in the hallway with the others in about 40 seconds, Heather and Madeline beside me. Even Hannah and Josh didn't act lax. Kayla joined us right before Kerrigan stomped into the room. She was still buttoning her pants. Josh, in the rush, forgot his helmet, which earned him an earful of 'encouraging' words. After that mishap, we were marched up onto the flight deck.

Like he'd said, all the planes had been moved from parking or the built in hanger and were being armed. Our planes, F-18s, were slimmer, faster, lightly armored, and equipped for mostly (but not exclusively) air-to-air combat. The attacker aircraft, Navy modified A-10s, were wider, bulkier, more heavily armored, and designed exclusively for attacking ships or ground targets. One of the deckhands stopped us while Stancill's flight took off, then one of the A-10 flights. Then our flight loaded onto our own planes.

F-18s had a pilot who flew the plane, and a co-pilot who fired the weapons and handled counter measures. There were six planes in our flight. The pairs assigned to each plane were, pilot-copilot: Me and Heather, Madeline and Kayla, Josh and Hannah (fitting), Tanya and David (his content ness which the arrangement was also odd), Kerrigan and Amanda, and Vincent and Amy.

I pulled myself into my seat and waited for the canopy to seal itself shut. I checked to make sure the panels were responsive, that the oxygen system was working, and every other necessary part of the pre-flight check.

Then, one by one, our planes were guided to the catapult that would help it get airborne. The jerking sensation was strange, but you got over it quickly once you were in the air. The sky was clear and blue. The sun shined brightly and I had to turn to avoid being blinded.

All we could do is circle the carrier while the rest of the flight, and eventually the A-10s, were launched. Once everyone was in the air, we all got in formation and set off for our patrol zone. No one said a word. On the way, we passed a squadron of Rubinelle Destroyers and Frigates sailing next to several oil tankers. They were tasked with protecting shipping. That was how paranoid people were: even the civilian shipping industries begged for protection.

Though the original sources had been hard to come by, I had actually found out the origin of tensions when I was 14. The two countries had been hostile for nearly a century, and quickly nearly two, having been 174 years of hostilities. In the days of wooden ships and single-shot rifles, each nation had been very imperialistic. So obviously, they wanted the center islands. That was how the very first war had started, only to end indecisive after a month of fighting, as wars of that time usually lasted.

Then, 22 years later, when ironclad ships and breech loading rifles came about, Lazuria became concerned about Rubinelle coming in control of territories closer and closer to their mainland, so they declared war. Lazurian troops actually landed and got within 40 miles of the Capital before the government hastily agreed to their terms. Things were relatively peaceful for ninety years. Then there was the biggest war up to that point, utilizing artillery and planes in force for the first time in the world ( Lazurian and Rubinelle served as a heaven for foreign military observers). The cause was when a Rubinelle battleship had fired at a ship carrying the Prime minister of Lazuria. Rubinelle eventually negotiated Lazurian to sign a treaty, but historians contribute this to the fact Rubinelle lost nearly twice of many soldiers.

Then 21 years ago, there was the Great War. All 'patriotism' aside, Rubinelle was actually the victim. We had been the first country to create nuclear weapons. Lazuria, in fear, launched what they called a pre-emptive strike. In the beginning, Rubinelle had suffered severe casualties. Eventually, they had gained enough momentum and pushed the Lazurians back to their coast. Casualties on both sides had been horrific at this point. Rubinelle's best military leader, a General Brenner, was tasked with landing and securing a portion of the Lazurian mainland. Defending was one of Lazuria's best military leaders, a General Forsythe. The fight was bloody, but eventually, Rubinelle was defeated and the General killed. The war was a bitter memory now.

But it also proved another thing. There was no longer any strategic or economic value of another war. People just fought out the fear the other would attack. Fear, something the weak let control them.

"_When I'M in charge, I'll open their eyes."_ Someone was going to have to end all this fighting eventually. And I knew it'd be me.

X Nate X

With a loud whistle, the shell flew from the mortar and soared through the are in a arc before hitting the training mark exactly. It went on in flames. I felt my self grinning at the cheers.

"Helluva shot man."

"Wow."

"And you've never done this before?" The instructor asked. For some reason, all the others that had been training were shocked that I just got here and was doing just as good as them.

"No, natural talent." I kept grinning.

"Right, right… wipe that damn grin off your face!" The instructor snapped. I flinched. "Don't get cocky. Never get cocky. Cocky makes you careless. Understand?"

"Y-yes sir." I stuttered. He was being worse then the drill instructor at basic training.

"Now, lets try it again at 300 meters. Set it up!" He yelled into his radio. I waited for the target to be set up. I could barely see it. I took the binoculars out and focused on it. In combat, they told me, two men would use the mortar, and one would spot targets and defend the crew if someone shot at them. For training, I was spotting and firing.

I went back over to the mortar and readjusted it to where I was sure it would hit. I hadn't figured out a precise math yet, so I followed my gut. It always seemed to work. I picked up the shell very carefully and positioned it at the opening of the barrel. The other soldier holding the mortar in place nodded. He was my age, but he'd probably joined on his own free will. I dropped the shell and ducked to cover my ears. Once the shell was gone, I pulled out the binoculars. I barely got the target in focused before it disappeared in a cloud of fire.

"Right on the god damn money!" The instructor stomped his foot on the ground. "You, boy, are a god damn natural!" I scratched the back of my head. I wasn't use to praise.

After that, I stood back while the others practiced. I was kind of disappointed. It was one of the only things I was good at.

_"I'm good at something used to kill people."_ I felt sick in my stomach.

After that was over, I had to rejoin the rest of the group for physical workout. I'd never been good at sit-ups, push-ups, or anything. My size did nothing to help. By the time the hour break came around, I felt like I was going to drop dead. I had to drunk half of the water tank.

_"I can't survive another 6 weeks of this."_ It wasn't right. I couldn't handle this. So why did they put me through it?

"You alright man? You look half dead." Another recruit remarked.

_"I wish I was dead."_ The mortar part was actually pretty fun. But I wouldn't get to do it all day, would I?

"I'm fine." I wheezed. "Not entirely cut out for this."

"It'll be easy sailing once you get through it." He tried to encourage me with a pat on the back. "Keep looking forward."

_"Forward to what?"_ I hadn't had a plan for the future before, and I sure as heck didn't have one now. _"I am so freaking screwed."_

I don't know how I managed, but eventually, the training ended and I dragged my tired butt back to housing, before collapsing in an armchair.

I woke up to someone shaking me. "Hey man, you got some mail." The voice said. The pain and soreness came back to be and I groaned in agony. "It's from someone named Maria." My eyes jerked open and the pain disappeared. My girlfriend? I jerked upwards and grabbed the letter.

I couldn't believe it at first. I tried to convince her it was an accident, but I wasn't sure she'd been convinced. She hadn't even spoken to me the entire court hearing.

_"She was always nice."_ I smiled. _"I knew she'd understand eventually."_ I tore open the letter. 2 words and a phrase immediate jumped out at me: 'sorry', 'dangerous', and 'better off this way'.

My brain shut down at that moment. I didn't know what I was reading. I didn't want to know what I was reading.

"Ooh." A recruit flinched behind me.

"Damn dude." Another one said sympathetically. "That sucks." He put a hand on my shoulder.

"A moment of silence!" The first one called, catching everyone's attention. "For another of our unfortunate comrades to have their heart torn out." Everyone else went silent and hung their heads down. They were trying to be nice. I'm sure they'd had the same thing happen to them, some maybe because they did decide to enlist. But I'd never experienced it.

I stood up and stomped out of the room before I realized. She turned her back on me too? Well…her parents might have put her up to it. But still! We were close. We understood each other. It was like magic. I couldn't describe it any other.

Over? Just like that? She thought I was dangerous? It was a accident! We weren't trying to hurt anyone. Why did everyone have to treat us like monsters? Why? I rested my head against the wall. My stomach was twisting in a very uncomfortable way. I felt more tired then ever, and slumped down.

What was the point of getting up? What was the point of life now anyway? It was over; we'd never recover from this. Everyone we ever knew hated us now. For practically nothing!

It was an ugly feeling. Nothing. There was no one who seriously saw any worth in us. _"No would miss us if we died tomorrow."_

X Rubinelle War Department X

Rubinelle Secretary of Defense Robert Bodell stared at the reports on his desk in dismay. The elder politician could feel several hairs turning gray. He was responsible for ensuring Rubinelle had the military means to defend the country and successfully defeat any aggressors.

One of the newer, and more expensive, tools was space satellites. Though for the time being, they weren't used for anything more then spying and reconnaissance. Selling the idea to Congress had been difficult, as the cost was substantial; for 1 satellite, they could build at least 30 heavily armored recon vehicles and train the crews.

The weight of the cost was particularly heavy now, considering most of Rubinelle's satellites were now destroyed. Congress would ask a lot of questions about the money wasted. He groaned in dismay.

So far, no explanation had sprung up. The President had harassed him to no end, asking if it was a act of war and if the Rubinelle military was in fighting condition. Did Lazuria have new space weapons? He didn't want to think of all the new difficulties if it was true. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of scotch and took a swig before stashing it back in his desk. The stress in this job was unbearable. Why hadn't he volunteered for the Secretary of the State during the last Presidential election?

He looked up at a knock at the door. "Yes, come in." He said edgily. A figure in a black suit entered the room. "Mr. Klein." Bodell sat up straighter. The 20 years running Director of the Rubinelle intelligence services sat down calmly in one of the chairs in front of the desk. A woman in a lab coat entered next, and took one of the other chairs. "Who's this?" The Secretary asked.

"Mrs. Franz of the space weapons research department." Klein explained. Bodell shook his head.

"I don't want to know about replacing the satellites, I need"- he put emphasis on the word-" to know what made them disappear." Bodell folded his hands on the desk. "Well?"

"Same thing that destroyed all of Lazuria's satellites, sir." Klein nodded. Bodell looked up. "Yes sir, Klein nodded. "Their politburo is meeting tomorrow to discuss the issue." Bodell felt much better after that information, but one question remained.

"Then what the hell happened?"

"Well sir, they all seem to have been hit by meteor fragments." Franz spoke for the first time. "In these instances, rocks the size of a nickel could do fatal damage to satellites."

"Meteor fragments?" Bodell felt a impulse to reach for the bottle again. "We've lost over 20 billion dollars to meteor fragments?"

"Lazuria did too, sir." Klein pointed out.

"Whole world has been having the same problem since yesterday." Franz said. "It's like a big meteor shower out there, haven't seen anything like it before. It's nothing to worrying about; it'll pass. My recommendation? Don't launch any more satellites for the time being." Bodell sighed; there would be Generals and other politician who would want them back today, meteors be damned.

"Thank you, Mrs. Franz. That'll be all." Bodell said. She nodded respectfully and left. "Christ alive." He muttered, resting his hand in his palm.

"I've served the last 3 Presidents and their staffs and still haven't gotten a taste for being the barer of bad news." Klein sighed and pushed his old body up.

"Before you go, how is that treason case I ordered you to follow?" Bodell asked. He glanced around. "That island is of extreme strategic importance. Any trouble is bad enough. Letting Lazuria annex it would be the worst loss since the war."

"Since you sent those Marine's to the island, it's been quiet." He said. "He isn't doing many speeches now. He's very quiet now."

"And his son?"

"Our agent is looking into it."

"Good." Bodell nodded. "I have some paperwork to get to. Good day Mr. Klein." The Intelligence Director nodded and left. Bodell looked down at the papers again. "Could be worse." He said to himself. "It could be a helluva lot worse."

XX Author's Note XX

I'm not trying to make the second part sound Angst-y. The character's just going through a loss of self-worth. But it'll improve with the developments...or not.

It is very fun writing out a history to fit in a world where one is not already established. The game doesn't have too much background, but for a DS game, I think it was fairly decent.

I'll gladly use OCs if anyone has them. Or, some ideas for battles would be appreciated. I already got a fair number planned out for the course of the war, but a few more couldn't hurt.

If you don't have either of those or any suggestions, just leave a nice, friendly review.


	4. Disaster

XX Author's Note XX

The first leg is rated primarily for language, depictions of violence, and disturbing content. I intend to lower the amount of disturbing content this time around. And the character's indirect combat roles will allow for less violent depictions. There will still be some language though, but obviously not as much as last time. It'll still be quite coarse in some extreme parts.

X Vera X

May 15th, 1995. Easily the most significant day in human history. And easily the worst in my life. Nothing is more insulting then watching a higher power take away everything you've ever worked towards and making it nearly impossible to gain back.

There was absolutely nothing present that foreshadowed the imminent occurrence. No warnings, no signs, nothing of the sort was even predicted. And yet, it happened, tipping earth's most intelligent and prosperous species to the bottom of the food chain. There are set backs, then there was this.

It'd happened soon after we returned from a patrol. Everyone was in his or her rooms, enjoying leisure time. I was reading, Heather sleeping, and Madeline and Kayla were watching a ridiculous romance movie on the TV.

The light fixture began flickering; making the room dark and then lit at random intervals. I looked up in annoyance, thinking nothing of it. Then the TV went off. Then the fixture went out and stayed out, earning a squeal of fear from Madeline. Voices began shouting all throughout the ship. I sighed and set the book on my lap.

_"This ship's so old the wiring must've shorted itself out."_ At least we were only a few more hours from port for repairs. As long as the aging engine didn't wear out, we were good.

"They better fix this soon." Kayla pouted. I was about to tell her to be patient, but a unknown sound caused me to stop. Before I even had time to register what the sound was, the ship shook violently.

Before I knew what had happened, I had been thrown from my bed and collided painfully with someone else, though the darkness prevented me from knowing their identity.

I might have heard one of the others scream, but if I did, it was drowned out by the roaring and hammering. The room tilted left and right, causing us to roll across the floor. All the while, my mind was trying to rationalize the situation.

Could it be an attack? Unlikely. We certainly would've gotten at least a minute advance warning. A freak storm? Also unlikely; the Captain may not have been too intelligent, but he knew to avoid any odd weather patterns.

The ship lurched violently again, flinging me back. By chance, I avoid smacking any limbs into the bunk bed, and instead flew straight in the wall before falling back onto my bed. If I could see, I assumed my vision would impaired, judging by the pain in my head.

The ship once again shifted, albeit less violently, causing me to lift of the floor before gravity slammed me back down. Something bounced off the back of my head, likely the book I had been previously reading. I could taste something salty on my tongue, obviously blood.

The roaring and the darkness made my senses essentially useless, though I still had the ability of intelligent thinking. Whatever was happening was irrelevant at the current time. What was relevant was the fact steps had to be taken to guard myself, or serious physical harm would come to it. A great mind is necessary for success, but a functioning body helps as well.

_"The beds are bolted to the wall. Grabbing on to the legs would keep me from being thrown about. Though that still leaves the threat of the others barreling into me."_ Self-preservation, I had look after my own well being for now.

I rolled over on my stomach and groped wildly in the dark for something to hold onto. _"Got it!"_ My hand closed around one of the metal legs. I scooted closer and wrapped both my legs around the other bed leg before pressing myself against the floor. _"All secure."_

Now that I wasn't flying around, my mind began to clear more, which re-begged the question: what exactly was occurring? The idea this was a attack was instantly dismissed as completely implausible; we definitely would've sunk by now. The problem was the sea, which had somehow turned rabid.

It all pointed to weather…but there was no natural disaster that even remotely resembled the effects being experienced. It could've been… it might've…maybe… I stopped dead.

_"I have no idea."_ It was upsetting. I was ALWAYS aware of my surroundings and any occurrences. _"It's just the head trauma."_ I thought to myself. _"It'll all make sense when things settle down."_ If it didn't kill me, that is. The thought was even scarier.

I realized I was completely powerless. This wasn't something I could control or turn to my advantage. I was at the mercy of whatever was happening…

I couldn't suppress a yelp when someone grabbed onto me and dug their nails in. I could understand why they did it, I just didn't like where their hand was. The ship rocked again, and this time the door flew open. I gasped as something _very_ cold doused me.

Water. It was water. Water was in the ship. There was a hole in the ship. The ship was sinking. We were certainly going to die. This probably would've triggered more alarm in my mind, but the shock of cold water caused me to lose my grip and again become a victim of whatever force was hitting the ship. The last thing I remembered was a light feeling as I was flung across the room.

X The Bridge X

Captain Benny Ryman held on to the two chairs with a grip worthy of arm wrestling champion. The windows of the bridge had already been blown out, killing several unfortunate men at their posts. Waves were still able to get up here, often sweeping away bodies and live men out into the unknown. In all his years, the Admiral had never seen anything this bad.

Outside was nothing but black. It was like there was no light to be seen for miles. He couldn't even hear anything but the roaring of the water. Not his thoughts, not the shouting, not even the screams of shrill terror as other sailors were swept into the unforgiving hell outside. The Admiral had no idea what had happened to the flight deck crews.

Somewhere, his mind told him there was something extremely wrong with this entire event, but up to that point, terror had hampered any ability to think rationally. But somewhere through the terror, rationality suddenly shined through.

The waves were hitting the ship hard, hard to the point he was amazed the _Odin_ hadn't capsized or broken into small pieces. He had to do _something_ or else just that would happen. Adrenaline took over, canceling out fear. He quickly tried to remember where he was, and where the wheel was. He mind quickly decided (correctly he hoped) that the wheel was behind him on his left. When there was a momentarily pause in the battering, he let go of the chairs.

He was immediately thrown, with great fortune, where he wanted. His came into rough contact with the wheel, knocking the breath out of his body and possibly breaking a rib. But a hand firmly gripped the wheel, and he hauled himself into a upright position as the ship seemed to be thrown away from the worst of the waves.

The Admiral felt a body bump into him. "Captain!" The sailor gripped the wheel himself. Another found his way to the wheel. Another wave of water entered the bridge and doused them further.

"If this fucking sea doesn't kill us, sickness will!" Ryman wasn't sure his men even heard him. The sailing got slightly smoother. Water stopped coming into the bridge, and the ship began rocking up and down instead of spinning around wildly. It was better, but the roaring still meant they weren't out of danger.

In the distance, a glow appeared, like a lighthouse. The Captain doubted it was one; in fact, he believed it was a fire. And a fire likely meant land. Beaching his ship would definitely mean she'd be in dry dock for months, but it was the only way to save the crew. The light drifted to the right. Ryman pulled on the wheel to steer the ship right. If the rudders hadn't already been torn off, the pressure the water was putting on them made it seem as if the wheel was glued to its current place.

"Right! Right!" The Admiral yelled. "Put your backs into it!" He pulled even harder on the wheel. If the wheel actually turned, the numbness and darkness made it impossible to tell. But the glow stayed in their visions, sometimes going left or right, or sometimes up or down as the ship did with the water.

The light suddenly went down, and disappeared from their views. The ship was actually going _up_, very high in fact. There was a sudden feeling of lightness.

"Son of a-" the sailor didn't finish the sentence as the ship crashed back down into the water. The glow disappeared from their sights.

"Goddamn it!" Ryman swore. The ship suddenly lurched violently as it hit land and skidded roughly for several hundred meters before grinding to a halt. The men were thrown back to the floor and slid against one of the dead panels. The roaring began to finally decrease in volume.

"I think we ran her aground, sir!" One of the sailors yelled.

"No kidding." Ryman replied. The Captain briefly reflected that she'd likely never sail again. But they were out of danger.

For the moment anyway.

X Nate X

If you watch enough movies, you'll almost always hear 'time heals all wounds'. It actually seemed to be true. I don't know how, but I was still living. It still hurt to think about it, but I was actually starting to get over it. In fact, I'd already been thinking pay back: what if I became a famous hero? I bet she'd regret it then!

"You with the black hair! Pick it up!" The trainer leading the jogging group yelled at me. I felt my spirit deflate.

_"Like that'll ever happen…" _I still hadn't seen Russell since we got here. I was willing to bet it was on purpose. But I was started to forget about him too.

Basic training had been bad, but this was actually starting to look okay. I learned the first week was just recapping what we learned. In a few days, we'd learn about parachuting, survival tactics, and a lot of other things for 'operating behind enemy lines'.

It was scary to think about, but exciting at the same time, but still mostly scary.

"Alright, drink!" The trainer ordered. We were doing our morning jog on the trail that ran by the nearby forest. I pulled out my canteen and fumbled with the cap. After taking a drink. I hunched over and tried to catch my breath.

_"This has got to count as abuse somehow." _I looked up at surprised comments from the other trainees. _"What the?"_ It was still early morning, but the sun had definitely risen. But something was streaking down. A falling star? I closed my eyes to wish I could go home.

Something like a cherry bomb behind us made me jump. I turned to see something had crashed into the trees. Grey smoke floated up from the area. Then something else hit the trees in a different place. Then another, and then another. One hit the trail in front of us.

"Hit the fucking dirt!" The trainer yelled. I threw myself down and covered my head as more things rained down. What was this? A attack? Oh no. I couldn't fight! I hadn't even completed basic training!

_ "No. No. No. Please no."_ I screamed in terror as another thing landed closer. I could actually feel dirt hitting the back of my head. I felt something warm and realized I'd pissed myself. I groaned in dismay. _"Just kill me first. Please just get it over with."_

Thick smoke started drifting above us. Smoke. The trees were burning.

"Get up! Get up!" The instructor was yelling between coughing fits. "We got to get back to the base!" Getting up was not something I wanted to do. For some reason, it felt just like when I didn't want to get out of bed to go to school.

"Come on!" Another trainee helped me up. He looked absolutely terrified. At least I wasn't the only. The instructor was still yelling. Everyone stumbled back the way we'd been coming. I could barely see; my eyes were watering from the smoke. My chest felt tight and opening my mouth just made my throat burn.

I started feeling really dizzy, and my version became blurrier then before. I saw several others in front of me collapse, but I couldn't figure out why…

I couldn't breath. I tried, but nothing. I stumbled and fell forward onto my knees. My chest was heaving for air. Another thing landed close by; close enough to send some of us flying into the air.

Part of the trail had been a steep hill that we had had to jog up. I landed nearby the top and before I knew it, I was rolling down. But I could finally breath! But each attempt was disrupted by me hitting a rock jutting out of the ground or because I kept bouncing off the ground. At one point, I think my let snagged in a rabbit burrow or something, cause I stopped sharply and I felt a pain in my ankle before I started rolling and finally got to the bottom of the hill.

I hit the ground hard and rolled over onto my back. I finally lost consciousness then, but as my eyes closed, I could see the sky. It was turning red, and there were still strange white streaks coming down.

_"What's going on?"_

X 13 Hours after the disaster X

In less then a day, thousands of years of technological, social, and medical advancements and reforms were destroyed. Humans were, for all intents and purposes, thrown back into the dark ages.

Meteors rained from space, thousands of them. Some were big, some small. Others broke into pieces upon entry or, in rare instances, as a result of anti-aircraft fire. Some regions were completed annihilated by larger meteors; others were severely damaged by smaller chunks raining down like artillery shells. Whole forests were burned to endless wastelands, earthquakes changed the landscape, and enormous waves from the channel wrecked havoc where they struck. The disaster scarred the entire planet, reducing its appearance to that of an un-inhabitable chuck of ground.

The fall of Society had a profound effect on the surviving people. People turned on each other, violently in many cases. Some surviving military personnel also took part in the violence, though few attempted to serve as peacekeepers.

Many regarded the disaster as a tragedy, some as a sign, others as punishment. Two people, in particular, regarded it as a opportunity

X The Channel X

The port had been heavily damaged during the crises, though it remained operational on a very small scale. Ships from the Rubinelle 5th Fleet, or the ones fortunate enough not to have been destroyed or irreparably damaged, were recovering here. Though the lack of manpower made the process very slow. Amongst the dead were most of the repair crews and the base commander.

Which was why the base and its personnel fell under a new leadership.

"Are you absolutely certain?" The new Commander asked eagerly, failing to keep a wide (though creepy) smile from his face.

"No one…" The radioman said in despair, somehow missing his superior's contrary attitude. He laid his head on the desk. "There's no one else out there. The Capital is gone…"

"So it would seem…" The man mused. "Then we must avenge this!" He declared, grabbing the radioman's attention.

"Admiral Greyfield?" He asked in confusion.

"It is clear Lazuria is responsible for this." He said firmly.

"What could they have that caused _that_?" The radioman shivered at memories of harsh waves and a unrelenting belief he would die.

"Clearly they have been plotting to destroy us for some time. We must strike before they finish us off!" Greyfield declared. "You!" He turned to the other Navy officer in the room. "Send word to the ships and the troops: we will invade Lazuria in several days time. I want the repair crews to work through the night!" The officer nodded firmly and left the room.

"Can we really pull this off?" The radioman wondered.

"Of course we can!" Greyfield said, a hint a agitation in his voice. "We are prouder and more able then any of those inferior beings! We will triumph! Mark my words: Lazuria will burn!"

X Northeastern Lazuria X

Situated on the furthest coast of the Lazuria was large region commonly avoided by most human beings. This owed to the fact that the area was privately owned, and guarded by a private military, fully equipped with planes, tanks, and combat ships. All across the region was factories and 'cities', or so they appeared to be cities. On the coast were more of these 'cities' and several port structures for building ships.

Built in the middle of this region was a large metallic fortress, overlooking a very large swath of factories, radars, communication towers, and more odd buildings. It was simply the largest 'city' in the region.

On the fortress, large guns fired large beams of red energy into the air, destroying any meteors that came even close to the fortress. Some would likely still hit the region, but the damage would be minimal.

Inside the fortress, a soldier clad in gray armor walked into what could be considered a viewing platform. The roof was made of heavy, durable, bullet and explosive-proof glass. The soldier briefly snapped to attention for the lone resident of the room.

"Dr. Caulder, sir. Damage to IDS property is very light. However, our reports are indicating that much of the rest of the world is being completely destroyed." She reported.

"Is that so?" Dr. Caulder didn't turn his gaze from the sky; it was much more interesting.

"Yes sir." The soldier nodded. "We're predicting serious effects of global climates and ocean currents. Some reports suggest the sun will vanish." At this, Caulder turned his gaze from the sky.

"Excellent news." He said with an evil grin and walked over to the only phone in the room.

"…Sir?" The soldier was slightly confused. Caulder privately berated her intelligence. Though he did hire some humans to help him, they were often unsatisfactory workers.

"An experiment should be tested in every possible setting to compare the rate of success. Do you not see? More testing opportunities have arisen!" One of his previous failed experiments came to mind. Now was a chance to redeem himself. He picked up the phone and pressed the button for one of his labs.

"Sir?" One of the guards answered.

"I want a secure transport arranged for all remaining experiment No. 294 samples to the nearby bomber wing."

"Yes, sir." The guard hung up. Simple-minded creatures, Caulder thought.

"I want observers deployed immediately." Caulder ordered. "I want updates of the Rubinelle and Lazurian governments, militaries, and civilian populations as they happen." The soldier nodded dutifully. "I also want the new project ready to deploy within the week." Again, the soldier nodded and turned to leave.

"One more thing." Caulder added. The soldier paused. "I require more notepads. I wouldn't want to have to leave out any details on the new subjects' demises."

XX Author's Note XX

Considering the tidal waves, any surviving ships must've gone on one hell of a ride. And yes, the ship was flying at some points of that scene, as in the water threw it. The light the Captain saw was actually a extreme wild fire miles away from the sea. Tidal waves, fires, earthquakes, falling meteor fragments, and shockwaves. It's amazing anyone survived at all.

And yes, some modern ships do still have a wheel for steering, albeit they're electronic.

Vera's character may initially resemble a Mary-sue, but she has her weaknesses as shown above. And Nate isn't entirely weak; he just needs motivation. I'll probably spend more time covering his character, but I just got to set things up first, which will take a few chapter.

Leave a review if you have the time. I'm still accepting OCs, and I also welcome suggestions for improvement, criticism, or ideas for the story.


	5. Aftermath

X Vera X

When waking up, the body and brain are slow to react. Mine were the same when I eventually came back to consciousness. I blinked at the tan color above me instead of the usual gray. An alarm bell went off immediately in my mind. I also became aware of the fact I was sore. Then I remembered the shaking, the darkness, and the feeling of being thrown around like a rag doll. I had survived. That was a significant observation. The question was _how?_

I realized I could here voices outside. This was a tent, likely at a field hospital. _"If we're on the ground, how long was I out?"_ It was worrisome. I turned my head to the side to see two other empty beds. While the bed was warm, I had to go find out what exactly was going on and get something to drink.

But as soon as I removed the blanket, I felt cold air in places there definitely shouldn't have been cold air. With a small squeal, I quickly pulled the covers back over me. On second thought, that could wait. First, I needed to find out why I was naked.

_"Embarrassing."_ I remembered quite clearly I'd had them on last time I was awake. _"So who took them off?"_ I shuddered inwardly.

"Vera?" Kayla called. I heard the tent flaps rustle. I risked peeking from under the covers to see her standing at the entrance to the tent. "Oh, your awake!"

"Where are my clothes?" I demanded, not bothering with any formalities.

"Oh. We had to strip them off so you didn't freeze to death." She explained. "But we got some of yours from the ship earlier." The reason was valid, though it didn't stop my cheeks from burning.

"All of yours are still drying, but you can borrow some of mine." She offered.

"Fine." I said quickly. Anything would do at the moment. She left the tent.

_"Drying?"_ I remembered the cold water. All my possessions were probably completely soaked. Which meant I'd need to restock on books and a few other personal things.

If we were on land, the ship must've beached itself before sinking. We were probably at a friendly outpost, since I didn't think all this supplies was kept aboard the carrier. I'd have plenty of time to ask the necessary questions.

"Here you go." I felt something fall at my feet. I moved a arm out from under to covers to grab it. Kayla snorted and I felt my cheeks burn more. Privacy was still a very important thing to me. I'd actually bought a bathing suit to that effect for showering.

It was a bit awkward, but I managed to get dressed while still staying hidden by the covers. I frowned at each bruise that stained my skin and at the scratch marks someone had left when they grabbed my thigh during the event. Kayla was just slightly taller then me, and her figure was somewhat different. So it was no surprise when her clothes were a little loose on me. I could barely get her bra to fit. I grimaced at the underwear itself. The design was not very appropriate.

I reluctantly shrugged over the covers and stood up. We all had our own pairs of clothing for off duty. One of Kayla's consisted of a black t-shirt with the name of some ridiculous band displayed across the front and a pair of black sweatpants. I had to grip them just so they didn't fall down. _"This is degrading."_ I'd have to ask Heather to borrow some of her clothes later if mine hadn't dried; at least she had the same figure as me.

I followed her out of the tent and paused to observe the rest of the setting. There were some other tents set up, but all around there were nothing but plains. Trees would most certainly be by a shore. "The others are over here." Kayla motioned. I followed her. Despite my self-consciousness, none of the other sailors paid much mind to me. It was a unusual sight, seeing them walking on the ground.

I froze when I became aware of the horizon. Red. The horizon was red. I looked up. The entire sky was read. _"Nuclear weapons."_ It was the first possibility that came to mind, naturally. Though I dismissed the possibility soon after. The radiation would have caused deterioration of metal state and bleeding sores, neither of which I was experiencing. But what else could've happened?

"Well look who woke up!" Josh's annoying voice cut off my train of thought. Everyone was sitting on logs surrounding a small fire. Everyone was wearing a different set of their off duty clothes, except Kerrigan, who always had on a officers uniform. It was noticeably damp. Like me, they had a few visible bruises. I attempted to brush off the log before sitting down.

We were far inland, still alive, and the sky was red. This whole situation was very confusing. "What happened exactly?" I asked.

"Despite all appearances, definitely not nuclear attack." David confirmed what I already thought. I looked at the others for something that was actually useful.

"No one knows for certain." Vincent explained. "But we're stuck here on our own. The only thing that works in the carrier now is the plumbing and the catapult."

"How far are we from the carrier?" I asked.

"Look behind you." Several of them said at once. I turned around and gawked momentarily. As it turns out, the Carrier was laying on the plain behind us. It was tilted on its side, but surprisingly intact. Our aircraft were nowhere to be seen.

"How many people were hurt?" I asked. If we ended up short of qualified sailors, getting back to the seas would take a while.

"57 people died." David explained. I frowned. Death was…something I'd never really experienced. "Couple hundred was wounded." The carrier had a crew of about three thousand. So about 20 percent of the people were incapacitated. Everything about this highly disturbed me.

"What caused this?" I bit my lip. No one presented a answer. It could've been a freak act of nature, or it could somehow be war. Both thoughts were frightening. In either case, there would be massive amounts of fighting and destruction. All my goals would be set back. I didn't want that. After everything I'd worked for, I couldn't bare the thought of it being for nothing.

Heather patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm sure things are fine." She tried to comfort me. I immediately straightened my face. So what was a little change of events? Improvising was a important skill. I held my head up high.

"_I can handle this. Whatever it is, I'll look back on it as a minor inconvenience in the future."_

"You better be ready." Kerrigan warned in a flat tone. "We're going to start marching soon.

"Marching?" I asked. Marching was something reserved for formal occasions.

"There's a mountain range 34 miles from here, Whirl Peaks. There's an army base there. That's where we're going. Do not fall behind." She warned.

I gave a forced nod and instead asked Heather about lending me some spare clothes.

X Nate X

I groaned when I woke up. Everything hurt and I didn't feel good. I didn't even now what was going on. What happened rushed back to me and I jerked up. Was I dead? Was this the afterlife?

"Hey! You alright?" A voice asked. I opened my eyes and say the roof above me. I was alive?

_"Oh thank god."_ I sat up. I was in a infirmary.

"You alright, brotha?" I turned to the bed beside me and nearly jumped in shock. The trainee sitting there, one that had been in my group, was covered in bloody bandages. All I could see was one eye.

"Y-yeah." I stuttered. I tried to stand up. My legs were stiff and wobbled. "I thought we were dead." I looked around in confusion. A lot of other members of the group occupied the rest of the beds.

"I was 'bout damn sure we was!" His voice was slightly slurred, like he had brain damage. "But naw, we're all back on tha base. No one is sure about what happened." He lay back down. "Glad your awake though."

"Thanks." I said awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

"S'nothing but a concussion." He said. "I'll be fines in a few days."

"Hope you are." I offered. His eye was had a lazy look to it. I felt sorry for him. "Where is everyone?" I asked.

"Outside." He pointed to the door on the far end of the infirmary. "You need to take yours kit. No one sure 'bout what happened." He explained. I looked down beside my bed to see all my equipment I'd been issued was sitting right there. I reluctantly fastened the helmet on and slung the heavy knapsack over my back. I careful tucked the pistol into my side holster and carefully picked up the rifle I'd been issued. It felt heavier then usual.

_"I don't want to do this."_ But if I didn't, what would happen to me? I gulped and switched the safety off before heading for the door.

"I didn't catch ya name." The soldier called.

"Oh, uh, Nate!" I called back.

"Good luck out there, Nate!" He responded in the same slurred face. I took a deep breath and stepped out the door into the hallway. A Sergeant almost immediately confronted me.

"Name and unit!" He demanded. I flinched.

"I'm one of the trainees, I just got here a few days ago!" I said quickly. The Sergeant bared his teeth.

"Go on then." He motioned to the hallway. His voice sounded almost defeated.

"Y-yes sir." I stuttered and quickly started walking. The building looked completely trashed. There was weird gunk covering the floor and the roof looked dented. I hesitated in front of the door. What was waiting out there? How bad had we been attacked? I sighed and reached for the knob. My stomach twisted painfully.

I instinctively closed my eyes as soon as I stepped outside. It felt cooler then I remembered. I carefully opened one eye. My other one snapped open in shock. The sky was _red_. I knew what this meant; I'd seen enough movies! Nuclear war. I stumbled a few steps. My stomach was still twisting horribly, but nothing came up.

_"No. No. No. Please let this be a nightmare."_ If not, everyone I'd ever known would be dead. I still loved Maria. And even if my parents and I had never really gotten along, that didn't mean I wanted them dead! I sunk to my knees. I choked for a moment. My eyes started to water.

"Hey!" It was voice I hadn't heard in a few days.

"Russell?" I stood up. Sure enough, it was him. I wiped my face quickly. "Your alive!" I felt relieved.

"Yeah. Dude, have you seen all this?" He motioned to the sky, and then to the rest of the base. I followed the motion and saw most of the other buildings were destroyed. Soldiers were either sitting on crates, leaning against them, our just laying on the ground in tiredness.

"Yeah." I admitted uneasily.

"This is messed up! We don't deserve this, you know that, right?" He asked.

"Of course we don't! This whole thing has been ridiculous."

"Then let's not!" He grinned excitedly. "I looked around, and most the people here are either dead or badly hurt." My breath caught in my throat. "I saw a couple parts of the wall that are gone. Dude, we can get out of here! Ditch these uniforms and no one's the wiser!" He was still grinning. "Cheer up, man!"

I could not. I wasn't sure why, but something tugged at me. The people here were actually friendly. I was doing something I was good at and that people appreciated me for. I actually had a place here… Then I remembered the guy from the infirmary. That could've been _me_. Any of the people that liked me could die. I could die. I couldn't bare the thought of that; I could barely bare the thought of the people who hated me dying. Staying here, especially now, meant I'd lose it all eventually. There was nothing to stay for.

"Sounds good." I nodded, trying to grin.

"This way. Hurry up!" He motioned for him to follow. I still hadn't learned the layout of the base. It was even more confusing now. Russell still had on his uniform, but had tossed out everything but the food and his canteen. Though it was still very heavy, I kept everything, including the gun. What if we ran into wild animals or invaders? I didn't want to shoot anything, but I didn't want to get killed either!

_"I just hope there's nothing I'll have to shoot."_ We quickly entered the narrow space between the showers and another building. I hadn't seen a whole lot of people since we started moving. I just REALLY hoped we didn't find a dead body.

"See?" Russell grinned at me. He had been right. The concrete and metal fence was pretty much gone here. Beyond were trees. In the distance, I saw smoke above. What if we got lost in a forest fire? I shuddered at the thought. But we could outrun a fire, couldn't we?

"Nice." I nodded. I felt a prick of guilt, but shook it off. What good was I? I'd just be dead weight. I could get some of them hurt. They were the real heroes. I wasn't one.

"C'mon then!" Russell made a beeline for the gap. I followed him quickly.

_"Home free."_ I hauled myself over a fallen section of wall. "Ok, let's-

"Hey boys." The voice nearly made me piss myself again. I wasn't sure how, but suddenly we were completely surrounded. I recognized that girl, Macy. I wasn't sure who the other soldiers were.

"Son of a bitch." Russell muttered. Something knocked our legs out from under us.

"Oof." Something hard pressed into my back. "Gah!" I squirmed but couldn't move.

"Where are you two going?" A female voice asked. I twisted my head to look above. A woman, a large one at that, was standing on both of us.

"Patrolling the perimeter?" I tried to lie.

"Patrols consist of at least four _armed_ soldiers." One pointed out, staring at Russell. He muttered some profanity under his breath.

"Can I just go if I turn in my equipment?" I pleaded

"That's desertion, solider." One of them informed me.

"I'm not a solider!" I shook my head. "I'm not cut out for this. I can't bare the thought of hurting anyone. You guys are heroes; I'm just- I didn't realize the foot had been lifted off my back. Silence. Tense, awkward silence. I felt my face burn.

"Let him up, Carla." Macy grabbed my arm and helped me up. "Walk with me." She offered. "Come on." It was somewhat relieving to get away from all of them. "You okay?" She asked, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged her off.

"I'm not a damn kid. I can take care of myself."

"Everyone's nervous." She offered.

"I ain't nervous. I'm agitated." I replied. "I haven't completed training. I never wanted to join. I shouldn't be here."

"Then why are you here?" She asked. I didn't answer. First they caught me trying to flee. If they found out I burned down a building, they might hang me.

"I don't want to talk about it." I said. Lucky for me, she didn't press it.

"Why don't you stay awhile anyway?" She offered.

"Stay awhile?" I scoffed.

"Hey, you'll get further then us then you will with him."

"Watch it, he's my friend." I warned.

"Sorry." She sure didn't sound sorry. "But still, stick around for a bit." She put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be useful."

"Look." I stopped. "I know what your trying to do, but-

"Nate!" The voice was somewhat familiar. I turned and saw of the guys from the mortar lessons. "Oh thank god you made it." He stopped panting.

_"Jesus Christ."_ He looked terrible. His whole face was wrapped in bandages. "The whole field support company got fucking trashed dude. We need every guy we can muster if we're going to be any use out there."

"See?" Macy offered. Something in my mind told me they'd set this up, or at least Macy had. The guy did actually look happy to see me.

"We're going off to war." I said glumly. "I don't want to kill people."

"Actually, no we aren't." I looked up. "We're actually relocating to the nearby city. The whole division will have to keep the region safe. We won't be killing anybody. Might have to launch a smoke bomb or two, though." I thought about it. I wouldn't be killing anyone…and these people would look out for me… It'd be another week or so of guaranteed survival.

"Uhh…I'm going to go talk about this with my friend." I motioned over to the way I'd come from. "Be right back!" I scooted off. Maybe I could convince Russell to this. I'm sure he'd listen to reason.

That hope diminished when I realized they still had him pinned down from resisting. "Hey man." I said. The other soldiers regarded me curiously. "Can you let him up? There's something I need to…" I trailed off; they were already shaking their heads. Dang. Instead, I simply got down right next to him and whispered my reasoning, sparing a cautious glance at the woman still standing on him. The goggles she was wearing meant I couldn't see her eyes.

"We'll end up going to war eventually!" He hissed back.

"Let's worry about that when it happens." I tried to be as quiet as I could, but I think they still might've heard me. Russell scowled, but sighed.

"Fine." He muttered. "But I ain't taking orders from any-agh!" The boot dug into his back. "Alright! Alright!" His voice raised a few pitches. The soldiers snickered. Russell got up, trying to brush the boot print off the back of his uniform.

Once we were out of earshot of the others, he started grinning. "Did you see that girl's tits? Holy cow, man!"

"Dude. She stood on us. She nearly broke our backs!"

"Worth it." He raised his head the other way. I felt as if he wasn't being serious enough.

"Dude, in case you haven't noticed: people are dead! We need to be careful." I said.

"Just for ourselves." He leaned closer as to not be overheard. "Give a few weeks, and once everyone lets their guard down, we run like hell! It's that simple, right?"

"…Right." I agreed uneasily, trying to ignore the odd feeling nagging at me.

X Vera X

As I had the misfortune to find out, the encampment was not all that good. The tents had been retrieved from the furthest ends of the Carrier's cargo bay. There weren't many, and they were only for the seriously wounded. If we became tired, we would have to sleep on the ground.

There weren't any facilities either. The only bathrooms were still on the carrier. If the mile walk there wasn't bad enough, the carrier was tilted. Staying seated had meant pressing my arms against the walls for balance. Uncomfortable and awkward didn't justify the situation.

And now we were walking, and leaving the carrier and all the comforts it had offered behind. My legs ached and I was already tired. This was wrong. We were in the navy. We didn't walk; we flew and sailed. This was a disgrace to our occupation, and completely unfitting for a lady.

The only one in the entire crew that seemed to be doing well was David, who moved confidently without the slightest sign of fatigue. The rest of us were covered in our own sweat. This was making us chilly. For some shameful reason, I had failed to notice it was cooler then it should have logically been. There was something bigger occurring, though I was too tired to piece it all together at the moment.

"You okay?" Vincent asked.

"I'm fine." I said stiffly, straightening up. I refused to be a example of the weaker sex stereotype. But my chest was beginning to hurt from running out of breath. I somehow found myself wishing I wasn't wearing a set of Heather's clothes; Kayla's would've been warmer and less constrictive.

"Everyone's tired, we'll rest soon." He assured.

"I hope so. This hurts." Hannah whined.

"Crying about it won't help." I reminded her.

"And it wouldn't kill you to be nice!" She retorted.

"Look." David pointed out. "We can see the mountain from here." In the distance was the thin, gray outline of the rocks.

"Good, they can help us." Hannah said.

"Not likely." David told her. "Whirl Peaks is a base for the army's Mountain Battalions. They're trained to move by foot and live off very little. So don't expect much help."

"But they'll still help us, right?" Tanya asked.

"Of course they will!" Josh ridiculed. "And if not, they'll be charged with treason."

"There's 3000 of us. They won't have a lot to spare." David warned.

"They can call someone to come pick us up. It's that simple!" Kayla said optimistically. Something tugged at my mind. Logic lead me to believe that the same thing that affected us had affected those soldiers as well.

"_Though how bad did it affect them?"_ Even though we all stopped to rest, I didn't stop thinking about it. I didn't stop thinking about a lot of things: my parents, my hometown, and the college I was planning to enroll in. Were they all affected? If they were… then what would I do? I had never felt like this before in all my life.

I woke up a couple of times from my sleep; each time sweating from some terrible scenario is my dreams. Each time I shrugged it off and curled closer into the mat I'd been given and chastised myself for worrying. Everything would be fine.

X Lazurian Coastal Town X

The landers moved along slowly through the still waters. Inside, grim-faced men of the Rubinelle Marine Corps readied themselves for combat. They were taking the fight to the enemy. They would avenge all the dead back home. Today, they would invade Lazuria.

Planes launched from the Fleet's remaining carrier flew over ahead to strike any targets of opportunity. The two thousand Marines about to land would clean up. "Get ready!" Their Platoon Sergeant yelled as explosions sounded in the town. Another explosion happened nearby and water fell on them.

"That lander just got hit by RPG fire!" A private yelled after he looked over the top.

"Like that will stop us!" One yelled, earning cheers from his brothers.

"We'll be landing in 10 seconds!" The lookout called. Rifles were raised. "3. 2. 1." The front of the lander dropped down. "Go! Go! Go!" The beach was deserted of any people that may have been in the mood for swimming. With a war cry, the Marines launched themselves upon the city.

Despite previously being a peaceful trading port, the city was now in ruin. "The bastard's own weapons hit them back!" One of the Marine's exclaimed. Their landing did not go entirely unopposed; several Lazurian soldiers fired down at them from the boardwalks. However, the small platoon was only there as a peace-keeping garrison; they had no chance against the hundreds of Marines.

Regardless, the Lazurians had put up a brave fight. The jeep and tank in the city had managed to cut down many of the Rubinelle troops before naval support silenced them. Many of the civilians fled. Some managed to escape. Some surrendered. Runners who didn't escape were shot.

From inside the ruins of a building, a young Lazurian soldier watched the fighting and the slaughter with wide eyes. The Rubes were there to finish them off. Lazuria's military equipment was largely destroyed, but the Rubes had all this. They had little resources to expend and all their remaining people spread thin. There were no officers left, no politicians. Their only hope was a brilliant leader, someone who could rally the survivors, someone who had expert military knowledge. A legend…

An idea came to the young Private's mind. It was perhaps crazy, but it was their only hope. The soldier waited until the planes had flown back to the carrier and that the coast was clear. From there, we ran to the outskirts of the city. From there, he ran across the countryside, stripping off his equipment that slowed him down. He kept running, even as his face turned blue from lack of oxygen.

He had to keep running. His country depended on it. His country depended on the thin hope General Forsythe was still alive.

XX Author's Note XX

After much thinking, I've come to the decision that most of the battles portrayed in this story will be heavily based of the free battle/ trial maps of the game. Some of you may have recognized Whirl Peaks as one such map. So consult your Advance Wars: Days of Ruin (or Dark Conflict) game cartridge for a better idea of the setting in the upcoming chapters.

Leave a review with ideas, suggestions, or criticisms if you have any to offer.


	6. Chapter 6

X Vera, 2 Days after Meteors X

This was entirely ridiculous. We shouldn't have been marching like this is such a large group. It would most certainly have been a oddity to a outside observer. I kept repeated how odd this was in my head, shamefully, as a coping measure.

The more we trekked, the more I was being forced to admit something catastrophic had clearly occurred. The weight of the idea seemed almost crushing. I'd worked on it for so long, and it very well amount to nothing.

Aside from the obvious losses, what would the present future hold? If something had happened, military forces would have to keep order. Meaning we might have to serve indefinitely. And what opportunities would there be? Humans would probably be forced back to menial professions like farming. I was too intelligent for something like that! And what about my parents?…

"Are you okay?" Heather asked me. I realized I had my face screwed up in displeasure.

"Fine." I relaxed my muscles. _"I'd rather die then do something that lowly."_ I shuddered inwardly. Then again, there had to be some worthy roles. Even if life was reduced to the level of the 1820s, there were village heads, weren't there? Then again, if things did revert to such a society, woman would have too low a social standing.

I huffed and stood up and began pacing. Everyone was tired, so all of us were just resting in a valley. I suppose it was somewhat impressive we'd gotten several miles in the span of a few hours, considering how large the group was. But it wouldn't amount to much unless we found help.

Feeling a bit lightheaded, I decided to sit back with the others. Most of them still looked scared and nervous. The exception was Kerrigan, sitting proper and gazing disapproving at everyone resting, and David, who was acting like this was a daily occurrence. Vincent wasn't showing signs of discomfort, though he seemed slightly restless.

"Get up! C'mon, get up!" A sailor was coming this way excitedly, yelling and waving. Kerrigan looked at him in the same disapproving expression as everyone else. "We found them!" The sailor went on, immediately gaining everyone's attention. "We're damn lucky too, they were about to leave themselves."

"_How fortunate."_ I wondered if he was exaggerating

"The Captain is going to meet their commander now. He wants all important personnel and officers to join him. That includes pilots."

"_Well that's better."_ My lips curved upwards. At least we were still being recognized. I grabbed my bundle of clothes and followed after him. The others picked up their own as well.

"I wonder if they'll give us a helicopter to get out of this place?" Hannah kicked at a rock and smiled smugly at the other sailors, who seemed more then displeased at our special treatment.

"Who says they didn't all get destroyed like our planes?" Vincent said. Hannah glared at him but didn't say anything else.

The soldiers here were very large, and most of them had facial hair of some sort. They regarded us with apparent indifference. I felt self-conscious upon realizing they had full combat gear and guns and here we were in off duty clothing. The only military article on my person was the handgun holstered on my hip.

Despite the surely arduous work associated with the unit, the commander appeared to be at least 50 years of age. Captain Ryman, who didn't seem that badly injured or affected, was chatting animatedly with him. One of the attack flights were already here, likewise in casual clothes.

The army commander briefly glanced at us with a frown on his face. _"Times change."_ He was probably displeased about us being women; it was a common discrimination against older officials. The other pilots showed up. Of all of us, Captain Bostack's (the veteran) flight was the only ones still in uniform. I suppressed a frown. _"They look more professional."_

"These are all the pilots we have, Commander Ranes." Captain Ryman was saying. "I'm a betting man almost, and I'm sure the Capitol would prefer these ones." He jerked his head towards us.

"Unfortunately, I'd have to agree." Ranes didn't turn his gaze from us. Something was etched all over his face as he stared at us. "Well, we're using the helicopters we still got left to move the wounded faster, but I guess some room could be made. We're trying to get a navy station at St. Martin."

"St. Martin? We passed that last week!" Captain Ryman exclaimed. "I didn't know we got thrown that far off course."

"The mountains shielded us for the most part." Ranes looked around. "Rain eroded most the mountain though, we lost an entire barracks when part of the mountain washed away." He shook his head. "Cast! Harper! Escort these pilots to the helicopter!" He turned and barked at two soldiers, who obediently saluted and quickly motioned for us to follow.

Four modified CH-47 helicopters were sitting on a flat piece of land. On the distant mountain, I could see what had been their base. The soldier exchanged several words with one of the pilots and then ushered us aboard the cool interior.

"Well, at least they're being quick about things." Madeline said, leaning back against the wall.

"How long till we get back in the air?" One of the pilots from the other attack flight stretched carelessly.

"_With that attitude, never."_ At least Captain Bostack's flight was behaved.

"Obviously as soon as they can get us planes." Captain Stancill said. "Whatever has happened, a no fly zone will have to be established. If we'll fight, I can't be sure."

"_Of course not. No one even knows what happened. Not even me…"_ The feeling of dread came bad, even if I kept my face expressionless. Losses happen. It should've been easier to accept…

"Welcome aboard and hold on." The pilot said through the intercom. "We may be in for a rough ride folks."

"_My whole life is in for a 'rough ride'."_ I thought bitterly. _"Look ahead."_ I told myself. We'd only seen a small portion of the country. Maybe things actually were better somewhere. Or was I just trying to cope again?

X Nate, 2 Days after Meteors

I kept my head down even though it hurt my neck. I was too embarrassed to face any of the other soldiers. For some reason, they seemed friendlier to us now, though they still had to stare after us. _"I wish they'd stop that."_

I wasn't even sure what we were suppose to be doing. So the two of us just awkwardly stayed in one place. Russell hadn't stopped complaining. He seemed determined to poke a hole in every argument they'd presented. "Just wait, we'll be able to make a break for it soon." He kept saying. I had serious doubts that they'd stop watching us anytime soon.

It might've been a hour, might've been two, but another soldier eventually came over to us. "Get to the vehicle pool." He ordered. "There's a detachment heading to the nearest city." My stomach twisted.

"Uh…where is that?" I asked. I honestly didn't know. The soldier opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shook his head and walked off, muttering something I couldn't hear. I felt guilty for some reason. Before I even realized what I was doing, I'd already stepped off the wall. "Wait up!" I called. The soldier paused briefly, but didn't look back. He kept walking as soon as I caught up. _"Why did I do that?"_

"Good idea." Russell whispered in my ear when he caught up. "They'll be less suspicious if we pretend to care." I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I wasn't sure what the say. I wasn't even sure why I'd moved in the first place.

"Whoa." I stopped dead when we actually reached the parking lot. We saw a lot of military vehicles in movies, but they looked so much cooler up front.

"Awesome." Russell commented. There a lot of Humvees, the guns on top glimmering. There were APCs too. I was disappointed not to see any tanks.

"_Those are the coolest."_

"Dude, check this out!" Russell said excitedly. I turned to where he was pointing.

"Sweet!" I exclaimed. It was a motorcycle. The sidecar had one of those big guns on it. I pictured it just like the movies. Zooming around, shooting down helicopters, jumping things, doing-

"Don't even think about it." A voice growled, causing us both to jump. "Get in the truck." A hand grabbed my shoulder and guided me away from the motorcycle. I looked back at it longingly. "In." The voice repeated, shoving us near the open back of the truck.

"Man…" Russell complained and climbed up. I tired, and failed due to my height. I tried again. Same result. My face felt red and I was sure the others were looking at me. One of them eventually got tired of it and pulled me up. He turned and muttered something to his friend.

I ducked my head and used my hand to move my helmet in front of my eyes. I didn't say anything when the truck started moving. I didn't even look up from the floor of the bed till I heard one of the others say, "There's the town."

My curiosity took over and I looked up. My mouth went dry. The entire road looked like something out of a horror movie. There ground was all turned up and red. "The town looks like a ghost town." I swallowed.

"Let's see if it deserves the title." One of the other soldiers commented. I turned around and looked over the side as we entered the town. There wasn't everyone around. The sidewalks were turned up, all the store windows were smashed. There was no sound at all.

The truck stopped suddenly, and I nearly fell from my seat. "Deploy!" A voice yelled, and everyone else jumped from the truck like it was a drill. Me and Russell were the last off. I stumbled and ended up having to be helped up by Russell. I was confused to see everyone else already lined up. "Stay here and guard the goddamn truck." A angry looking officer growled at us before turning his attention to the other soldiers.

"_That's not fair."_ I thought bitterly. _"I can't help my height."_

"Easy, peasy." Russell snorted and climbed back up into the truck bed. I watched all the others leave. It was suddenly quiet again. "This may not be that hard!" Russell laid down and started staring at the sky. "We've watched enough movies on how to get through this stuff." Somehow, this seemed more unrealistic then the movies.

Maybe it was because I was restless, or maybe because I was asked, but I started to walk around the truck. The silence began to nag at me so I started whistling. By the time I'd circled the truck twice, I could already hear snoring from the back of the truck. Suddenly, I realized that I was tired. The forced sleep had not helped at all.

My shoulders seemed to sag automatically and I thought how comfortable it would be to lay down. My mind became even more numb as I climbed into the bed and my eyes automatically closed the second I laid down.

I woke up with a horrible feeling of pain and I'd barely rolled over before I threw up everywhere. The foot kicked me again, this time in the side. Something got yanked over my head and I couldn't see anything. I heard Russell's muffled screams beside me.

"_Dear god, I'm about to die!"_ I started twisting around in panic. This was exactly what happened in mob movies! I was picked up off the truck bed and thrown forward. I screamed as the ground seemingly vanished beneath my feet and I hit something hard.

I knew I'd hit the ground even if I couldn't see it. I could hear Russell making a sound like a whimper and I heard footsteps approach and yank me up. "Walk." A voice demanded, pressing something cold to my neck: the barrel of a gun. Trembling, I took an uneasy step forward. "Run and I end your life here." The voice warned.

X Rubinelle Capital, 3 Days after Meteors X

The Presidential Palace was somewhat controversial, for it represented a contrast to the country's democratic government, yet still served as it's center. Or it had. The building was now mostly deserted. All of the inhabitants, warned mere minutes before the destruction, had fled. This had proved fatal, as even though they perished, the building remained relatively unaffected.

"To the left you wretched fools!" Admiral Greyfield yelled. "No, right!" His face was turning purple. "Simple minded-

"Uh, Admiral?" A officer appeared at Admiral Greyfield's side.

"Yes?" Admiral Greyfield snapped, turning away from the workers trying to put the self-portrait on the wall. Having arrived in the Capital only a hour previously, Greyfield was setting up shop in the former President's residence, who's own portrait laid discarded on the floor.

"Communications are still mostly down, but a lot of sketchy reports are saying there's fighting go on all over the place." The officer explained. "Though our own force is holding it's own very well. Uh…" The officer hesitated. "Sir, we're getting reports the enemy may be reorganizing quicker then expected."

"Never mind." Greyfield waved off the last part; those inferior Lazurians would pose little trouble. "What about contacting other units?" Greyfield demanded. Upon arriving, they had been entirely surrounded by weary citizens begging for answers and help. Greyfield did not like this; such animals had to be controlled, so he had tried to bring more troops in to form a garrison.

"Hard to do sir, though we've established contact with several Air Force elements and a Marine battalion that was conducting exercises at the time of the attack. They are En Route to here now."

"Anymore?" Greyfield asked. To wipe out Lazuria and control Rubinelle, he'd need a lot more forces.

"Not at the moment." The officer replied evenly.

"Unacceptable!" Greyfield yelled, causing the officer to flinch. "Send out search parties, we need more soldiers here now!" His face turned purple.

"Y-yes sir." The officer quickly evacuated the room. Greyfield turned back to the workers.

"No! To the left!" He yelled again.

"Sir?" A different officer appeared.

"WHAT?!" Greyfield rounded on him. The officer made a random noise in his throat before regaining composure.

"We identified the person we believe may be leading Lazuria." He handed the file to the Admiral. He jerked it open and the frustration on his face disappeared for a moment, though the new expression did not express the feeling of terror quickly expanding inside him. Then he forced himself to melt into calmness as reason came back to him.

"No difficulties." Greyfield handed the file back.

"Sir." The officer sounded easy. "He's-

"He is a relic and a senile old man!" Greyfield snapped. "I am a much more adapt leader then him. Now leave me!" Greyfield ordered. The officer hesitated, but then hurried from the room.

X Darrett, Lazuria, 3 Days after Meteors X

Fort Lazuria sat on the furthest end of the coastal city of Darrett. The fort served as a historical site, and a active military instillation. It's strategic location in the center of the Lazurian mainland, as well as the city being mostly intact (the blaring exception being a unusual blue beam in the middle of the city, something military engineers were observing), led to the decision that Darrett would be the rallying point for the Lazurian military and the center of reconstruction for the nation.

For the past day, many army units were coming to the city with civilians rescued from destroyed cities elsewhere. A large amount of the National Lazurian Air Force, mostly MiG fighter squadrons, were landing on the outskirts of the town. Some transport or bomber units had also arrived, bringing some civilians from the furthest reaches of the country. Though radio contact had been made, the navy had yet to appear.

Inside the vast but undamaged halls of the fort, a figure in dark uniform and a equally dark hat, both articles with a red stripe crossing them, walked calmly with several much younger officers walking behind him silently. General Forsythe paused and twisted the white hairs of his mustache while he gazed into room after a room. "In 20 years, I see this building has not much changed." He said. But Forsythe himself had changed.

Forsythe was a household name within Lazuria, even 20 years after his achievements. During the brutal war between his own Lazuria and Rubinelle, Forsythe had been one of the nine General's conducting the entire war. Forsythe had shown amazing leadership qualities in his theatre of operations and even more amazing planning ability.

But 20 years was a long time. He now looked frail and weak in uniform, even though he was treated with respect. He'd rather not be here at all, but duty called. The people needed him.

"Well sir, we're still tallying, but so far we've confirmed at least seventy thousand troops are still combat capable." Said Alecsandr Polyakov. The young Major had volunteered as Forsythe's assistant.

"I see…" Forsythe acknowledged the report. In truth, he did not know why Rubinelle was attacking; they must've surely been struck by the same tragedy. Forsythe only hoped if he could reorganize the Lazurian military, the attacks would stop for fear of all out war. "Any exact numbers?" He asked.

"The Air Force is the only one we're sure about: 185 MiG fighters, 23 Tu-22 Bombers, and we have quite a few Sturmovik ground attack squadrons, about 254 planes in all." He finished. Forsythe found himself nodding: though old propeller planes, Sturmoviks were still very effective attack craft.

"Our ground forces?" Forsythe asked.

"We have 3 armored divisions and 2 infantry divisions present, though both depleted." He added. "We also have a Air Assault Division, they made it here with most of their helicopters still in tact." Forsythe nodded again; that Division could be highly useful.

"I understand we have been in contact with naval forces?" Forsythe asked. He finally reached the office he had held 20 years previously. The office appeared disused and dusty.

"Yes sir." Polyakov nodded vigorously as Forsythe sat down in the chair. It felt both familiar and uncomfortable, as if it knew he was no longer young. "We've been in contact with several Capital Ships, including the Carrier Admiral Golovkin commands."

"Is that so?" Forsythe said in surprise. Golovkin had been one of Forsythe's most trusted subordinates during the Great War. Most of the men Forsythe had served with had died or retired long before this disaster. Of course, he himself had come out of retirement.

"Quite good…Quite good…" Forsythe murmured. He folded his hands on the desk. "There is work to be done then, Major. The first thing I want is a line of communication with Rubinelle. Can we do that?" He asked.

"Yes sir." Polyakov nodded. "We'll get right on it." He left the room.

"Pardon me, General. Speaking respectfully, why should we pursue peace?" One of the other officers asked. "What the Rubes have done is inexcusable. Woman, children even!"

"I am aware of what they did." Forsythe said heavily, feeling a momentary pang in his chest. "But revenge will only lead to more needless loss of life, and we don't need that, especially right now. We shall first try for peace. If this fails…then we will have no choice but to fight." He admitted. "But we must avoid it if we can." He finished strongly.

The officer seemed to be gnawing on his lip, but nodded his head respectfully and backed out. Forsythe rested his head in his hands for a moment before looking back up at the remaining officers. "In any case, we will need a force of peace keepers. I want detailed reports on the exact number of troops here. We can not live with a military government forever, so please try and locate anyone with knowledge in politics. Rubinelle is but a minor problem. Now, we must rebuild our country."

XX Author's Note XX

Another chapter or two, and we'll be seeing some combat on Vera's part. Though only a year older then our other protagonist (and having a 'head up your arse' mentality), she has a much more mature approach to combat. While I've already heavily memorized aircraft armaments and brevity code, I'm still studying how to right a good combat scene.

For some reason, I have a easier time writing scenes with Forsythe. Then again, he puts forth more effort then Greyfield.

The 'X days after Meteors is a method to keep time. It wasn't much necessary in the 12th Battalion leg.


	7. Planning

X Nate 2 Days after Meteors X

"_Oh god Oh God Oh god!" _This wasn't cool! I was too young to die! I hadn't even done anything! But whoever was pushing me along the road had something against me. Russell had stopped shouting after what sounded like a few punches to the stomach.

They didn't talk to me or anything. I thought I heard someone else talking to them. "You know the damn code." Whoever was dragging me yelled back at them. They jerked me back and forth. I couldn't even tell which direction we were going it. I was too scared.

After what seemed like days, they grabbed the back of my uniform and pulled me to a stop. "Turn around." The voice ordered. I quickly did. Whatever had been over my head was yanked off and I found myself staring directly at a pistol. My breath caught entirely in my throat.

"What the hell are you doing?!" That voice sounded familiar.

"Shut it, Macy." The soldier growled, not taking the pistol or his eyes off me. "He fell asleep on guard duty. That's reason for immediate execution."

"_WHAT?!_" My chest tightened. It was just a nap!

"They're just kids!" I could see Macy now, holding a rifle and hurrying up.

"They're a liability!" The soldier spat at her. "We don't need shit like this now and you now it!" His voice sounded different somehow…

"What's going on here?" Someone yelled a mile away. Everyone's faces were covered in black. Then all I saw was black.

"GAH!" I jumped up and scrambled around wildly before several arms grabbed me.

"Hey man, cool it!" Someone yelled at me. I stopped moving. Panting, I looked at the two people staring at me. I recognized both of them; they'd been in the mortar lessons. I sat up.

"What?" I asked, looking around. It looked like we were on a roof (my stomach dropped). There were a few soldiers near the edge with a big machine gun.

"You passed out. So scared you forgot to breath!" One of them laughed. I couldn't remember either of their names.

"They-they let me go?" I asked. I saw that gun. I should've been dead… They'd actually let me off?

"Captain Bradford gave you and your friend a pardon, seeing as your both young and all." He shrugged. "Your name's Nate, ain't it?"

"Yeah.." I nodded. _"Where's Russell?"_

"Mine's Marcus." He pointed to himself. I couldn't really see anything about how he looked. He had a weird accent, though. I wondered where the guy I'd been working with before was before remembering all the bandages that had covered his face.

"Eugene." The other one extended his hand. The had the same accent. His face fell as I shook it. "At least you can use a mortar." He said bluntly. I shrunk back. "Anyway, I guess we're a team now." He motioned to the mortar behind him, pointed up in the air. I looked across the rooftops. There was another big machine gun set up on a roof across the street.

I didn't want to look down, or stand up for that matter. There was no way they could've got me up here while I was awake. "So uh…" I faltered. _"What do I need to know?"_ I was actually in the field now, wasn't I.

"Who's our boss?" I asked. On of the soldiers at the machine gun turned around and stood up. He looked older, like 30.

"I'm Second Lieutenant Whitley. Even though you're not done with training, you've been assigned to Company A's Heavy Weapons Platoon. I'm your commanding officer now." He stopped and looked down at me. "Stand up, Private!" He yelled. I scrambled up.

"They tell me your MOS is in mortar fire." I had no idea what he meant. "You better live up to that, Private. And you better well understand your duty. Or you'll regret it." He leaned forward and looked me straight in the eye. I thought I saw a vein sticking out. I tried not to break eye contact. He finally backed of.

"So what do we do exactly…sir?" I added quickly when his face turned angry.

"We provide indirect fire support for Company A, private." He said. I was glad he didn't sound angry. He patted the machine gun. "Not as much as a tank of artillery piece could do, but enough to help the company if we're behind enemy lines for a while."

"Company." I repeated to myself. I remembered what I'd learned in basic. Since it was basic math, I could actually remember it. "150 soldiers in a Company, 10 Companies in a battalion, 5 Battalions in a Regiment, 4 Regiments in a Division."

"Good organizational skills." Lieutenant Whitley nodded. "Yes Private, we're in the 334th Regiment, under Colonel Otto, in the 81st Battalion, under Lieutenant Colonel Emmert. We're in Company A, under Captain Sallee, and this is the Company's Heavy Weapons Platoon under my command." He finished. "Memorize this all in case you get lost, Private."

I nodded and mentally repeated the information several times in my head. _"I can remember that."_

"Be lucky we're still organized." Lieutenant Whitley went on. "At least a forth of the Division is gone, including officers. Company F is being commanded by a Captain now, and I'm pretty damn sure there's a Corporal leading a platoon somewhere in Company D." I didn't understand how that could be a problem.

"_I wonder where Russell was assigned."_ I hoped he was okay… I sat down when I saw he'd stopped speaking and had gone back to the gun. Marcus took his helmet off and laid down. I stared at his red hair for a minute. Eugene wasn't even looking at me.

I carefully edged over and looked over the side of the building. It was the same street that the trucks were parked on, I could even see the truck I'd fallen asleep in. Looking back and forth, I couldn't figure out where'd they dragged me. I'd been too scared to look at anything but the gun back there.

"_Macy."_ I remembered. She'd saved me, hadn't she? "Do you guys know Macy?"

"Who?" Eugene yawned. Marcus was asleep already.

"She's in Bellus' squad." Lieutenant Whitley said. "She's in the Company. You can thank her later, Private. She's the one who convinced me to take you lot."

"_Did she?"_ It went quiet again. I scratched the back of my head. I couldn't hear anything else. "Is there anyone else here, sir?" I asked.

"Company A and C got sent in here with a few recruits." Whitley told me. "There are some people, but they're terrified. Don't blame them."

"_I don't either."_ I looked up at the sky. My stomach flipped like I was falling. I quickly tried to focus on something else.

"Lieutenant Whitley!" A woman yelled bellow. He got up and looked over the side of the building.

"Captain Sallee." He put a hand to his head. I looked down at the woman standing there.

"_She's in charge?"_

"What do you got, Lieutenant?" She asked.

"A mortar and a pair of 240s." He called back. I noticed the machine gun across the street looking at us. They must've been part of our group.

"Pack them up and get ready to move out. We have a target." My breath got caught in my throat again.

"Woohoo!" Marcus jumped up behind me.

"Who we going after?" Whitley asked.

"There was supposed to be a trial at the base yesterday, a band of mercenaries the immigration authorities found trying to sneak in the county. Apparently their transport convoy wrecked and they got free."

"And took it out on the town." Lieutenant Whitley finished.

"They're rapists, murderers, and thieves. We're going to put them down. Pack up those guns, the Company is moving out in twenty minutes."

"Time for real fighting." When I turned around, Marcus had already packed the entire mortar away in it's case.

"If they're mercs, they probably already got experience." One of the soldiers at the machine gun said. I felt like I was going to pass out again.

X Vera 3 Days after Meteors X

The human mind was something I was considering studying if- the word itself pained me- I made it to college. Interaction between people was something I'd been increasingly curious about since enlisting. I was curious to how my…acquaintances dealt with lack of privacy always present and how they were effective pilots despite completely counter-productive personalities. It was mysterious to the point of being frustrating.

"_Must be a good sign if I can focus on that." _There was a certain amount of comfort at the navy base since we'd landed. Though only a single ship was there, it was still fully staffed. They'd already given us quarters and said they'd try to contact our fleet. I had doubts they'd succeed, though. But in the mean time we were free to stay here. In honesty, I didn't want to leave.

The idea terrified me. I didn't want to see the rest of the world. My parents had done so much: set me on the right path, taught me to be a proper lady, paid for my education. Everything. I didn't want to think of them as dead.;

I didn't want to accept that there was a war going on either. Success could be salvaged, but not if I was dead. I wasn't a coward by any means; I was strong, independent and I very well knew the risks. But nuclear war…or whatever had occurred, was beyond my expectations.

"_With such idiocy in control, I should've expected."_ I hoped whoever was behind this was dead. I snuggled in closer to the bed but didn't fall asleep for another hour at least.

I found some comfort the following day. Heather and Amy had similar goals and fears now too. And we'd all considered a partnership eventually, so it was clearly logical to discuss it. The base wasn't capable of housing an entire fleet, but it had sufficient means to repair larger ships. The waterway stretched out and around a hill that hid the ocean from us. We chose a meeting place outside one of the hangers used to shield ships from the weather.

"Someone is responsible for this." Amy's mouth was curved in a smile that seemed more forced then her usual one. Throughout the year, I'd noticed her intelligence at times seemed close to being eclipsed by anger.

"Lazuria probably." I agreed. "Or it could've been retaliatory." I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt; our side had a history of idiotic moves.

"Either way." Heather said heavily. "We're all in trouble. Civilian structures and society never fare well in times of disaster and warfare." Her words were true.

"Well, it's no use trying to change the situation." I said. "We need to focus on ourselves." I paused for a moment. "I have no idea what to do next." I admitted. This was also not weakness; input from other intelligent minds always helped. I felt dismay when I realized they didn't have any suggestions.

"_Plan. We need a plan!"_ How else were we suppose to move forward? Things deteriorated into silence as we all thought. Ignoring the dismay, I turned to look at the base. The first thing that caught my eye was a Destroyer.

Spruance class Destroyers were the latest version the navy used. In exchange for the gun battery in the front, it instead had a rocket launcher for firing anti-ship and anti-submarine missiles. The back battery had also been replaced with a Anti-Air Missile system based on the ones Army and Marine forces used for mobile defense. It was one of the most efficient means of killing.

Killing. For some reason the idea repulsed me now. It wasn't cold feet, like I said, I knew what I was pledging when I signed the forum. But just staring at the weapons made my stomach turn. "Humph." I turned around.

"We're being watched." Heather informed us. I risked a glance where she was staring and saw Kerrigan looking at us. I turned my head back. Her commanding attitude hadn't changed, but she'd taken to harassing the base commander about various things. She wanted us to get into combat quickly. My stomach turned again.

"Our odds of applying for a transfer are even lower now." Amy said in false cheeriness. I could not tell what was going on in her mind.

"Let's just go back to the quarters." I rubbed my arms. Since arriving, I'd changed back into my flight suit, it offering the most protection from the elements. "It's too cold out here." It was difficult to deduct it was still May. Kerrigan did not move as we were walking, staring right at us when we passed. I kept my eyes straight ahead.

"Unfortunate she didn't die too." Amy said under her breath when we were out of her earshot. I frowned; It was a bit extreme. She wasn't that bad. Okay, maybe she was a little-

"Do you hear planes?" I suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of jet engines.

"Huh?" Heather and Amy were caught off guard. Suddenly, the base sirens started going off. I was momentarily shocked.

"_An attack. There really is a war."_ I probably should've laminated on this horrid realization, but the sound of Anti-Aircraft guns sent me into flight mode. We'd started for the nearest building, but didn't get there is time. The sound of jet engines got louder and they raced over head, firing their payloads as they did.

The ground shook and we all fell over each other. There was crashing all around as chunks of concrete went flying. We all just pressed ourselves to the ground, staying as close together as possible. I risked raising my head and a small sound escaped my throat.

The base was already nearly destroyed. Buildings were burning and collapsed, as well as most if not all the stations. The Destroyer I'd seen earlier was firing at the planes above. I ended up looking at the worst possible time. At that moment, four planes dived at the ship, firing. For all it's advanced weapons, it stood no chance against the numbers.

I found myself staring in shock at the flaming wreck that was sinking into the water. Then someone grabbed me and dragged me up. "What the fuck are you doing? Get inside!" One of them was yelling. He pushed me towards the building.

"Come on, just walk!" It was David. What he was doing out here, I wasn't sure. I was still slightly stunned as I stumbled into the building.

Moments later, when the three of us- _"Where'd David go?"_ were huddled in the building hallway along with a few other base personnel, my mind cleared considerable despite the noise still outside. Outside had just been a moment of shock. We'd obviously been shown a lot of combat footage, but it was intended we'd be in planes during such.

Those had been Lazurian Su-25s; attack craft their Air Force and Navy used for attacking ground and naval targets. They were essentially identical purpose-wise to the A-10s our Squadron had used.

"_We could've stopped it if we had our planes."_ I thought defiantly. But we could do nothing but huddle in fear as the bombing continued outside. I should've been out there stopping this…

There was a increase in the sound of jet engines, and a series of more explosions. One of the base personnel came in supporting one of his other teammates. David followed behind, carrying another wounded person. He looked calm.

"Our own planes just got here!" He announced. This was met with cheering. The most I did was exhale in relief. "They're ours." David said, kneeling down in front of us. "It's a couple of boys from the _Pontus_." This news seemed to lift all worry temporarily from my shoulders.

The RNS _Pontus _was one of the other carriers in the fleet. Aside from it and our carrier, there was another carrier and five battleships, all of old design, that made up the bulk of the fleet. Had the fleet come to pick us already? It was amazingly convenient. I hadn't seen any escort planes, so there was a strong chance they'd regain control of the air.

"Lady luck's been kind to us." David reflected.

"_Such a useless notion."_ I stood up. "When are they picking us up?" I asked.

"They're dispatching a pair of Cruisers that should be here soon." As he said this, there was a distant crash that shook the ceiling. "I'm going to go try and help clean up." He said quickly and ran back outside.

"_Brave_." I thought. My insides squirmed suddenly; to get to the Cruiser, I'd have to go outside. I didn't want to see outside. I could tell Heather and Amy were with me. And for that matter, most of the others who had holed up in this hallway.

I sat back down at the wall. I didn't think about our fortunate recovery. I didn't think of what we'd do once back to the fleet. I didn't even pay attention to the time. I didn't realize Kerrigan's presence till she loudly cleared her throat.

I honestly took offense to her calm demeanor. People had just died! Even if we were enlisted, it was horrible to be indifferent. Everyone else was shaken. Even me, though I was reluctant to admit it.

"There's been a change in plans." She said in the same commanding tone. "The Search and Rescue crews from the RNS _Tempest _will come pick us up. We're being reassigned to the RNS _Pontus _for the course of the war." The last word tore at me. I scolded myself inwardly.

"_I'm stronger then this."_ I'd admitted this was possible; I should have been fine.

"They'll be arriving shortly." She left without another word. I found myself very curious about what she was thinking. _"Likely about glory."_ I thought. It was a disgusting fact about a lot of officers: they sought fame on the back on disposable pawns. There was a war, and now we were said pawns.

I reflected on this fact bitterly for several minutes. I had a much larger purpose then to die such a meaningless death. Sometime later, we were informed the helicopters had arrived. I stood up on my own, resolve fresh in my mind.

I was strong; I'd survive no matter what. My resolve faltered when I stepped outside and I immediately looked at the ground.

"Don't we have to get our things?" Someone asked. I realized after a moment it was Hannah. So none of the others had died. Why hadn't I thought about them before?

"A plane crashed into the barracks. Nothing of value was lost." Kerrigan said coldly. I didn't risk looking. I felt even more frustrated, both at her pessimistic view and that I now had nothing else to my name.

"_Walk. Just walk."_ I told myself. I could see the helicopter, it was just…a mile ahead. _"Just keep watching the helicopter."_ I stood erect and walked purposely for the craft. It was the only thing in my vision. I didn't look any other way. Captain Stencill's flight was already present. A tightness that had seized my chest eased as soon as I stepped into the cool interior. I shake my head. _"That was pathetic!"_ I was stronger then this!

"Sit down, sit down." On of the crew members said, using his rifle to guide us. I eyed with weapon with unease.

"The _Pontus _is a old ship, but it should have some planes in storage for use." Stancill looked all at us gravely. "I know things seem rushed, and that all of you are scared- it's natural," He patted a boy on the back from his own flight.

"_Natural? It's unnecessary weakness!" _

"But the simple fact is that we'll be going into combat soon." There was a low hydraulic whine as the back ramp came up and sealed.

"These guys say they're fine, they just want us to go make sure no ships are out there." The pilot called over the intercom.

"We have a important mission now." Stancill said. "And that's to protect Rubinelle from Air and Naval attacks." I stomach felt uneasy. As soon as I got in a plane, I knew I'd do just that, but the whole situation was making me feel off. I shouldn't have been nervous, but I couldn't disperse the feeling.

I didn't even realize we'd reached the carrier till Tanya put a worried hand on my shoulder. Even deep in thought, I realized the trip had been short. I turned and looked out the window. The hill that had shielded the base was visible in the distance.

"_Why didn't they tell us they were so close?"_

"Hey!" A voice shouted. "Get moving!" One of the deck hands was standing at the bottom of the ramp. I flushed. We needed to clear off the flight deck, it was protocol. I'd been doing it for a year, why did I forget it now?

I nodded and quickly walked across to the interior of the ship. "It's hard to tell the difference." Tanya remarked quietly. I nodded agreement as I watched the crew work around the planes already parked on the flight deck. The carriers were the same class, so the layout would've been nearly identical.

When we got inside, a sailor offered to show us to our new quarters. The path was nearly identical to the one I'd followed for a year, except for a major detour near the end. I'd been in the carrier after it beached itself to use the bathroom and attempt to retrieve any valuables. The halls had been flooded and dark. And though I hadn't gone to see it, the flight deck was heavily damaged and void of either people or aircraft. But the flight deck here had been operable, the insides unscathed.

"_They must not have endured a storm."_ Thinking on that, was there a weapon that could cause storms? Nuclear arms were ruled out, but that storm hadn't been a coincidence. "Has intelligence confirmed what caused this?" I asked, regaining my military persona instantly.

"No Lieutenant, nothing really." The sailor answered. I was slightly pleased to be referred to by my rank when most usually referred to us as 'kids' or some other degrading term. But it only irritated me that no one knew. We were a world super power!

David was lounging outside a room that I assumed had been assigned to Vincent, Josh, and him. He nodded as we passed. I kept a tight-lipped expression of my mouth. He looked almost bored by the events.

We past another compartment where Amy and Hannah was. The former waved. She was probably glad to be back in a familiar environment. Tanya bid me farewell. As I stepped into the next compartment, where I knew we'd be, I couldn't help but feel similar.

The room was slightly different. There wasn't a individual bathroom built in, there was probably one big one assigned for the whole section. There wasn't a TV mounted above the door, nor were there chests, just lockers. Aside from that, it still had the feel of a prison cell. But I could manage.

"No privacy anywhere." Heather complained. She'd climbed to one of the top bunk.

"And all our stuff is gone." Kayla said sourly.

"_And we're going off to war."_ I thought as I sat down on the bunk below Heather. "Maybe this is just a sporadic conflict?" I suggested, sitting up. "Which ever side attacked surely faced a retaliatory strike."

"And they may pursue peace to prevent further damage." Heather finished. I smiled and nodded.

"_Of course, that leaves the task of fixing all the damage."_ At that minute, the ships intercom system crackled to life, remaining shrill static for several moments before Captain- Admiral, he didn't have his ship anymore- Ryman's voice echoed throughout the vessel.

"Brave men and women of the Rubinelle Navy, I, Admiral Benny Ryman of the famed Rubinelle 9th Fleet, would like to extend my greatest thanks for your orderly and efficient response to the current unknown crises." So no one had any idea here either. "I know not all of us are present yet." He went on, referring to those still traveling with the Mountain troops. Now that I was safe myself, I felt a bit of pity for them.

"But waiting is something we can not afford to do. We can not mourn the loss of our fellow men who did not survive." I made a mental note to ask how many of the Fleet's sixty-seven ships were left. "Our country needs us more then ever, and so, for the time being, we will shift our efforts to humanitarian operations as soon as possible." This caught me by surprise.

A military wasn't formed purely for fighting, I understood that. In fact, helping people sounded a sound and more beneficial activity to me. But such operations were difficult in a war. Those planes had come from somewhere nearby. We should've been hunting them.

"Our first destination will be a island forty-seven miles Northwest of here. It was a navy base in the last war, and it still has some inhabitants. From there, we'll move South towards Swan Cove before moving back North to the port in Ruby Keys. I want every ship ready to fire, every plane fit to fly, and every man and woman ready for whatever is thrown at us. There are difficult times ahead, but I know that we will face them without fear." The intercom went dead.

In a way, I had to admire him; speaking was a difficult talent to master. But I still had a bad feeling about the upcoming events. Madeline shared this view. "What if there are more Lazurian planes out there?"

"I assume that we'll be sent into the air during the operations to guard against them." Heather shook her head.

"What are you all so grouchy about?" Kayla had climbed into a bunk and was pulling a blanket over her head. "There's been war before, and they always told us it would happen again." She was acting as if nothing had happened. She was calm and collected. "We should've all been ready for this."

At that moment, I felt a strong sense of satisfaction with myself. A lot of the population could be brainwashed easily. I would fight. But while others fought just because of some pointless grudge, I'd still be working towards my goals.

XX Author's Note XX

What with school and all, updating has become a rather…difficult task.

Trivial fact: The British Army did have a field policy to execute all soldiers who slept on guard or sentry duty. I tend to base Rubinelle on Western Militaries for tactics and organization.

Trivia fact 2: Pontus was the Greek God of the sea. I'm turning a bit to mythology of Greek and Norse cultures for Capital Ship namesakes; I think the names fit well for something as powerful, multi-purposed, and historically significant as a ship.

I am conflicted on whether or not to use any Classic maps in the upcoming war. On one hand, they technically exist outside the DoR universe. On the other, some of them would make good battles. Some input from my viewers would be nice. Also, the RNS Tempest was a ship name suggested by user: **ZeroDragonSP**

Please review, and you are welcome to submit any ideas/characters you may have. 6 chapters in has netted some 300 views, better then it's predecessor.


	8. First Blood

X Nate 3 Days after the Meteors.

I couldn't go to sleep. I'd been twisting around on the mat for hours, probably. Everyone else was already asleep except for a few guys who were standing guard. Any minute now we'd wake up, get back in those trucks, and go kill those guys. I shuddered at the word. _"I can't do this."_ Even if they were bad guys, I didn't want to be a person of action.

I sat up and glanced over the others. Macy was sleeping just a little ways down. I wasn't interested in her; despite everything, I couldn't forget Maria. But Macy seemed to be the only one to get that I was just a kid.

I hadn't even finished my training yet! And here they were expecting me to go against trained gunmen. They expected too much of me and nearly killed me when I showed them. Deserting actually did seem like something good to do again.

I laid there for another hour maybe before everyone started getting up. I was so tired that I barely could manage that. I ended up falling asleep once we were in the back in the truck, though. I had a nightmare where I did get executed. I jerked up, for a second convinced that it was what had happened and this had been a dream.

I was still in the truck, and the others were staring at me. I awkwardly scratched my head and didn't say anything. A few minutes later, the truck slowed down and turned before stopping I watched another stop behind us.

"Alright, dismount!" Someone yelled. When I tried to climb down, I ended up falling down. Marcus helped me up.

"C'mon let's grab the mortar." He said. Most of the supplies were in two trucks, which were now being emptied. I looked around.

"Whoa…" I stared at the giant house in front of me. I realized everyone was parking in the drive way. _"Man, this dude has got to be loaded…"_

"Squad and platoon leaders, line up!" I recognized the voice of Captain Sallee. I stood behind Eugene and Marcus. They were holding the large case for the mortar between them. "Okay, we combed over the intelligence available. We're up against a group of mercenaries that call themselves 'Golden Dawn'. They've been serving as guns for hire for several dictators in third-world countries. They are highly experienced and skilled." She warned. I gulped.

"They specialize mainly in guerilla warfare, but the only weapons they have is what they stole from the convoy." She went on. "Corporal Richards, take you squad and recon the blue mansion." She pointed to a house that stuck up in the air further down the road. "That's suppose to be their base." The Corporal nodded and he left, followed by a few other soldiers.

"This is some serious stuff." Marcus said. He didn't look excited anymore which only made me more nervous. I wasn't the only one, either. Since we technically weren't full soldiers, we had slightly different uniforms. I counted at least twenty people who wore the same uniform as me.

"_Why are they doing this to us?" _We were kids…why should we have to fight? The Corporal and his guys returned and talked to Captain Sallee, but I couldn't hear. She called us all back after a minute.

"Okay, they've made their base in the mansion seven houses down. Based on the court documents, there are probably fifty of them." This actual helped me relax; we had more guys on our side. "Here's the battle plan: Snipers and mortar crews will fire from the roof of this house."

"Huh?!" I cast a terrified look at the tall house. No one paid any attention.

"Squad A will form a road block here." She pointed to the street. "Squad K will form a road block past the target building to ensure more hostiles don't arrive. The machine gun teams will take cover in the house next door. They'll lay down suppressive fire while Squads B and C advance with the APCs and hold the drive way. Squad D, E, and F will flank around the house to hold the property behind. The remaining squads will enter the mansion. All teams will move as soon as the mortars initiate the first strike against the barricade they've set up in the driveway."

Us, I realized. We were going to begin the attack… "Questions?" She looked around. I almost raised my hand to ask if we had to fire from the roof. "To your positions then!" Everyone else was either jumping in the trucks or back in their Humvees. Eugene and Marcus started carrying the case indoors. I reluctantly followed.

"_Oh god." _I felt like I'd pass out again. We'd have to kill them, there was no other option. I still didn't want to, even if they were the bad guys. Just walking up the stairs made my stomach hurt.

We pretty much got lost. The house was so big, we kept wandering into spare bedrooms or bathrooms. One bedroom had a body in it. I let out a terrified shout and jumped back. Marcus dropped his side of the crate. We left, quickly pretending we hadn't seen a decaying corpse.

We eventually found the attic, and from there a window onto the roof. "They sure know how to decorate." Eugene pointed.

"Wow…" I looked in amazement. I hadn't seen much in the truck, but this neighborhood was huge! Big mansions were lined up like houses. This was where millionaires lived. Then I noticed the mercenary's house.

The house looked abandoned now. There was paint and graffiti all over the walls and most of the windows were broken. In the drive way, they had sport cars grouped together in a barricade. I suddenly shrunk closer to the ground.

I could see the guys even from here. There must've been thirty outside! _"How many inside?"_ I wondered fearfully.

"That's a lot of them." Eugene seemed scared too.

"Heavy Weapons platoon is in place." Lieutenant Whitley reported over the radio.

"Snipers are taking positions." I jumped as two other men climbed up behind me. I never even noticed them. The three of us glanced at each other and unlatched the case for the mortar. It wasn't very hard to set up, only the base plate, barrel, and bipod. Adjusting the bipod determined where it landed. That's why I was here.

"Where should we hit?" Marcus pulled out his binoculars. I bit my lip. I didn't want to think of how many people would be killed if we didn't get enough of them the first try. I reached and unlatched the bipod to lower the barrel just slightly lower then it was.

"That should just hit the cars… right?" I said uneasily. There were a lot of them gathered around the cars…

"Uh, this is mortar team, preparing to fire." Eugene's voice cracked near the end. I gripped my side of the mortar tightly as Eugene took a shell out of the case. He held it above the tube and looked at me. I probably didn't look reassuring. I thought I was going to puke. Marcus was staring at us instead of through his binoculars.

"Any day now, boys!" One of the snipers snapped irritably. We all jumped.

"You sure this'll hit the barricade?" Eugene asked. I nodded, too afraid to speak. He looked from there to the mortar. He shrugged. "Fire in the hole!" He dropped the shell into the tube. I immediately ducked and covered my neck with my right hand, and almost my left hand holding the mortar.

I'd gotten use to firing it over the past few days, but the way it shook seemed odd to me. I didn't look up till the explosion had stopped. When the gunfire broke out, I almost ran back inside. I couldn't even see anything when I did look up, there was too much smoke. But I did see the APCs turn into the driveway.

Gunfire kept going off behind the smoke. "Are we suppose to fire again?" Marcus wondered. My mouth was glued shut.

"Hold fire." Lieutenant Whitley ordered over the radio. "We may hit our guys." I pressed myself down and covered my head in case any bullets came towards us.

The fire seemed to drag on for an hour. There was another explosion. "Damn, there goes a Humvee." One of the snipers said. When the sound started getting less loud, I looked up.

The sports cars had stopped smoking and I could actually see the APCs sitting in the driveway with the soldiers taking cover behind it. More fighting seemed to be going on inside the house. I ducked again as one of the windows shattered.

"_Oh man."_ I kept pleading in my head over and over again for it to be over soon. The gunfire stopped after another few minutes.

"Building clear." A voice growled through the radio. I sighed and sat up in relief. Finally out of danger… "Twenty hostiles neutralized." The voice went on. I squirmed.

"We got the rest down here. Search the house for weapons or hostages. All other teams, hold position." Captain Sallee ordered. At last, I relaxed. It was over. I sat there dumbly for a while.

I'd been scared completely shitless at the idea of killing other people…but I didn't feel anything right now. _"Does that mean I'm a bad person?"_ It wasn't like I'd _enjoyed_ it… But why didn't I feel guilty?

"All squads pack up! We've over stayed our welcome." Captain Sallee called. I helped Eugene and Marcus load the mortar back into the box.

"So what now?" I asked.

"We head back to town, and we stay there." One of the snipers acted like I'd asked a stupid question. I probably had.

"How was your first time?" Macy asked as soon as we reached the driveway.

"…I don't feel anything." I realized she wouldn't believe me as soon as it left my mouth. But instead, she nodded.

"It takes time to set in." She patted my back. She went back to talking to some other soldiers.

"Friendly, isn't she?" Marcus elbowed me. I ignored him. Once we had climbed back into the truck, a lot of the recruits were excitedly discussing the fighting. It was stupid! People had died! I nearly puked when I thought about it. They acted like it was some adventure, but we had to do what others told us.

"_What's so great about being a soldier to these people?"_

X Vera 3 Days after the Meteors X

"_Unbelievable. Insulting. Idiots!" _Some more un-ladylike words were close to crossing my mind. I'd put up with a lot during this year: the bad food, the small living space and smaller bathrooms, not seeing the sun, the uncomfortable gender-neutrality policies, Kerrigan, and the simpletons that made up the rest of my Squadron. I'd dealt with all of it with no outward complaint. The least I expected in return was to be able to do my job.

We weren't going airborne any time soon. There weren't many reserve craft on the ship, and what ones there were had went to Stancill's flight. All the carriers in the fleet were understaffed; any one of them could deploy ninety planes instead of the thirty usually assigned, but we got the surplus while most of the planes and pilots went to the main fleets. Again, it came down to our idiot government.

Oh, but of course they tried to bribe us with a offer to go look on the island for aircraft. The base had been decommissioned for several years. There was no chance of there being F-18s or A-10s on that island for us. So Heather and me stayed, as did Vincent. The pair of us were waiting for their return in our quarters.

"It's completely foolish." I stared at the bottom of Heather's buck as if it'd heed some relief. I greatly disliked being powerless, especially when those in power were so incompetent.

"And insulting." Heather added. "We could do more then any of them." This was the reason we were friends, why we acted normal around each other, why we could be open on even the most intimate issues: we thought exactly alike, we knew how to balance seriousness with fun, and we were above childish giggling at perfectly normal subjects. The same could not be said for the others nor some of the older enlisted.

"Yeah, we could." I agreed. We sat in silence for some time, mulling silently over the injustice.

"I need to use the bathroom." Heather jumped down from her bunk.

"As do I." I got up. On our way back to our compartment, we ran into Vincent in the hallways.

"What's your thoughts on all of this?" He asked. I was slightly surprised at his break from being silent outside of missions.

"It it clearly humanity's darkest day." I said. "This new attack seems to have done severe damage to the planet." I remembered the red sky. The ecological and atmospheric damage was very visible. Vincent nodded.

"What weapon could even do such a thing?" Heather pondered.

"I don't think it was a weapon." Vincent admitted. I looked curiously at him. "The sky looks like those pictures in history books about when the dinosaurs went extinct.

"Ash blocking out the sun." I remembered those pictures.

"It was caused by meteors." Heather remembered. "They also caused extremely destruction of the landscape and caused water levels to-" Heather and we both jumped as if we'd been struck. Realization came to us in a brilliant stroke, and I again chastised myself for being so ignorant as of late.

"Meteors…That would explain all of it!" I exclaimed. "A second meteor shower…" Then I cringed with fear. It was worse then war. I felt light headed, and the next second Vincent had grabbed my shoulder.

"Steady, there." He said. I straightened up and shrugged him off.

"I'm fine." I stood erect to make a point. "But it is very possible." I conceded. "Though it fails to explain fighting." I realized.

"People are paranoid." Vincent shrugged. "They probably thought it was artillery." He had a point; people were that unintelligent. I tried to digest this information. On one hand, it did mean my educational goals were certainly delayed. On the other, armed with this information, we could prevent fighting and thus not endanger ourselves more then necessary.

"The Admiral should hear this." I decided out loud. Heather nodded. Vincent didn't look convinced.

"Would he even listen?"

"He's a leader, he's suppose to listen to his subordinates." I said impatiently and grabbed their hands. "Let's go." We got a couple of odd looks by other sailors. _"Let them stare and go on with their lower work."_ We ran into trouble finally just below the bridge.

"Sorry ma'am, he's engaged in other matters." The Marine standing guard denied our request.

"We have a plausible theory on what happened." Heather let go of my hand and crossed her arms. If this intrigued the Marine, he had the discipline not to show it. But her words had the desired effect, and the Marine told us to follow him.

The bridge was as busy as any flagship. Officer's ran every direction, others talked seriously at their stations, but every motion remained fluid and even. Admiral Ryman was talking with Captain Benedict, the ship commander. "Sir, you requested the company of anyone who can offer an explanation." The Marine saluted.

"At ease, Corporal." Admiral Ryman returned the gesture. Captain Benedict glanced at us in clear disapproval. "Cavender, Waites, Schoenfeld." He addressed us all by our last names. "I had a feeling it'd be one of your flight. Bright bunch there." The pride I felt allowed me to completely ignore Captain Benedict. "So, what do you got?"

I quickly launched into the explanation, quoting the occurrence millions on years previous and how the effects were similar now. No sooner did I finish did Heather launch into a explanation of how it could have led to the outbreak of fighting.

"Vincent was the one who suggested it." We both said at the conclusion. He hadn't stepped forward to take credit. But unlike Amy, we gave credit where it was due; such resources were hard to come by.

Admiral Ryman nodded throughout the whole speech with his hand on his chin. Captain Benedict had said nothing but kept frowning. While they didn't turn their faces, I could tell all of the officers nearby had a ear to us.

"Well, I won't pretend that makes things any better." Admiral Ryman shook his head. "But a very interesting theory. Of course, we have no definite proof, but it's something to act on. In any case, we still have to continue humanitarian operations. And regardless, we must stay combat ready." He stopped for a moment. "Your flight is still grounded, right?"

"Yes sir." We all said. He shook his head.

"Not anymore " He shook his head. "Unfortunately, a carrier that had just been commissioned was passing through here and got pushed into the rocks on the far side of the island." I covered my mouth in shock. "The surviving crew and planes are being recovered as we speak." He said gravely. "I know this is not perhaps how you envisioned returning to the air…but in these desperate times, we must take extreme measures." He nodded.

"_Horrible."_ Humans, due to our intelligence, had enjoyed a slight superiority over nature. That no longer seemed the case and example.

"You're dismissed. Thank you again for the information." We exchanged salutes and were ushered out of the room quickly; he was a busy individual.

"Not very progressive." I said bitterly. It seemed every step forward was greeted with a step back. _"Those poor people…"_ I wasn't superstitious by any means…but knowing those planes had been used by someone made my stomach twist painfully. _"Keep looking forward."_ I told myself.

Some good had occurred; our chances of combat were far less likely now. I couldn't really name another positive besides that. I felt queasy again. "I think I'm going to lay down for a few hours." I told them. They both uttered agreement.

Soon, much too soon in my opinion, we were awoken for a briefing session. We were the last to arrive, earning us stares from everyone else. We took our seats without acknowledging them.

"Thank you for coming." Admiral Ryman started. He paced back and forth, his face set almost near a grimace. "We have…received a new theory on what has occurred." This grabbed everyone's attention. Admiral Ryman went directly to his point. "We now think it may have been meteors." And he repeated our theory as if it was a memorized speech.

I smirked at the various expressions going around the room, ranging from terror to skepticism. "_As if they'd have come up with a better one themselves." _

"Regardless if this is true or not, we must still disperse aid and remain combat ready." He said. "We are staying here for only another two days to help repair civilian infrastructure. After that, we move on. Now that we have a more capable Air Wing, patrols will be organized so that we planes in the air 24/7. We can not allow any less." Someone spoke up.

"What military district are we in?" I heard Captain Bostack asked.

"We are not yet sure." Admiral Ryman responded at once. "But we are still below the main belts." He said, referring to the contested islands that made up the center of the channel. That put us at less risk for encountering Lazurian forces. When no one else spoke up, he continued.

"I want all pilots rested and ready to fly at the slightest sign of trouble. This is not a scenario we ever trained for, but it is one we will face with courage, commitment, and vigor. Dismissed."

XX Author's Note XX

The map in Vera's part is meant to be Antipode Map in the NA version. (I am unaware if the map names are also different in the European version). I meant to incorporate some combat on her part; starting with some small combat scenes like Nate. But I still am trying to refine my descriptive ability of air warfare, so it'll have to be next chapter.


	9. Skirmish

X Vera 4 Days after meteors X

In spite of my previous agitation at being without a plane, I felt slightly queasy as we walked up to the fight deck. It'd be our first time in the air after the disaster, and the odds of engaging a enemy were higher then before.

I was not eager to kill for the first time, nor was I reluctant. My uneasiness came instead from the idea of the other pilots. I'd rarely met anyone remotely equal to me during my studies. But in the sky, our abilities would probably be very close.

We stepped out onto the flight deck. Our new planes were already sitting there ready for launch. Moving around in their colored vests, the deck hands quickly motioned the four of us to our planes.

The Navy Air Wing was one of the most recent branches of the military, and as such was not entirely independent. In the war preceding the Great War, where the idea first came to fruition, the only planes available were modified Air Force ones. The same went for the Great War. Even now, the helicopters the ships used for search and rescue were simply modified Army variant, and the A-10s the Navy used for attack were the Air Force models repainted and modified to use the catapult. There was only one plane that had been designed with the Navy in mind.

The F/A-18D Fighter was that plane. It was a new model built from the results of tedious testing on the shortcomings of the F-15 that made up the Air Force's Fighter Command. It was faster and had larger fuel tanks and better targeting systems. Despite a lower weapons load, it was the best aircraft in the military, able to be flown by only the most intelligent and skilled personnel. _"Like me." _They had also been in very short supply before the meteors.

I felt a sense of familiarity and calmness as soon as I rested in the pilot seat of the craft. The panels and display in front of me lit up to give me all the important information for piloting the aircraft. I reached forward and gripped the stick.

"Running pre-flight check." I looked at the panel and then glanced around. "Engines, and oxygen systems are operational." Down below, a deck hand wearing green gave a thumbs up. "Flaps are good."

"Weapon systems are online." Heather reported. These planes had nine hard points, meaning it could hold nine missiles, not counting the gun pod mounted underneath the plane. "Load out is seven AIM-9s and two AIM-7s." AIM stood for Airborne Intercept Missile; there were several types, and each type used different means of targeting to down other aircraft. There were other missiles the plane could carry, but in this instance, we were only carrying air-to-air munitions. If we saw any surface vessels, we radioed back to the fleet for support. But we were well equipped on our own for any conflict that may arise.

"_Assuming we can't defuse any difficulties."_ Even with the knowledge, I had doubts all of Lazuria's pilots weren't mindless blood hounds. I would have to face that if it came to it. In the meantime, I had work to do.

"This is Raven 3-7, pre-flight check complete. We're ready for take off." I spoke into the radio.

"Copy." The flight crews called back.

"This is Raven 3-3, pre-flight check complete. We're ready." Madeline radioed. Like every other sortie the past year, we were paired. Rather her and Kayla then Josh and Hannah. Or Kerrigan. The very idea of any of those arrangements repulsed me.

"You're cleared for launch." The tower announced. I gripped the stick. The jerk of the catapult was a very uncomfortable feeling, comparable to being struck in the stomach or bladder. But as soon as the plane was in the air the discomfort subsided. I pulled back on the stick to gain altitude. Madeline and Kayla's plane was up in the air and beside ours within the minute. We turned and flew over the _Pontus_ once before turning and flying out the our designated zone.

No matter how familiar the plane and the job was, some of my senses couldn't quite adjust. The distance seemed longer, and the plane heavier and less graceful then it was usually. The blood red sky was enough to make me nervous. I scolded myself.

"_It won't hurt me."_ It was a inanimate object. The nervous feeling persisted still. I would've talked to Heather about it; we usually had such discussions with each other, but we'd been ordered to keep the radio constantly on and open. So I held it back.

We reached the designated area and began our patrol. "Radar is clean." Heather radioed back. Clean meant there were no aircraft around- the Air Force and Navy used a number of terms to stand for actions, places of statuses. I personally found some of them ridiculous, but it was not my place to say so.

We cruised on for what might've been another forty minutes, sending periodic reports back to the carrier. The feeling of anxiety had vanished mostly. But as long as the sky remained red, it would never truly vanish.

"What's that?" Kayla's voice escaped from its normal tone. I turned my head to the right and immediately noticed something: a black cloud apparently suspended in the air. I checked the radar.

"Radar's clean." I pointed out. "Maybe we should go look?" There was a slight fluttering in my chest at the idea. Regardless, we both banked towards the cloud while Heather radioed the occurrence back to the carrier. I also heard her arm the missiles. We pulled up behind the cloud, us on the left, Madeline and Kayla on the right. Being closer, we could actually see through the smoke.

"That's a B-52." Madeline realized. B-52 heavy bombers were the core of the Rubinelle Air Forces Strategic Bombing Command. They were bulky and slower then regular fighters, but they compensated by carrying enough munitions to level whole cities with excellent aiming.

"It's radar must've been knocked out." Kayla stated the obvious. "Aren't its engines destroyed?" I tried to glance through the smoke. The B-52 had eight jet engines to propel it and lift its heavy load. Five of it's engines appeared to out, three of which were on the right side, making it tilt. It wasn't going to last long. While Madeline tried to radio it, I radioed the carrier.

"Command, this is Raven 3-7, we've found a damaged friendly bomber." I reported. I looked back out at the plane, feeling a slight anxiousness. There really was nothing we could do to help them. "We're currently one-hundred two miles Northwest of the island." I waited for their response.

"Have you established contact with the aircraft?" I recognized Captain Ryman's voice now.

"Negative." Kayla spoke up. "Their radar and radio seem to be inoperable." The Captain was silent for a moment.

"What direction is it heading in?" He asked at last.

"Directly south." Heather answered.

"Can you lead it towards the fleet?" Ryman asked. That wasn't a easy order- all means of communication were cut. I looked at the panel; the fleet was Southwest, so we just had to get the bomber do turn right slightly. How though?

"We'll attempt it." I radioed back- attempt was the only practical option. The first thing we tried was to change course ourselves. The pilots picked up the hint right away and swung the bomber around, albeit sluggishly due to the lack of engine power. We eased off our engines and resumed flying beside the damaged craft. The action relaxed me; It was familiar, it reminded me of my abilities. _"This isn't a difficult task."_

"What do you think happen to it?" Madeline asked as all three aircraft flew along.

"It looks like it's coming back from a bombing run. But where's the rest of its sortie?" I wasn't sure why I added the question- it was fairly obvious what probably happened. _"Everyone is acting irresponsibly."_ I huffed to myself.

We flew on. At our current rate of speed, it would've taken us only twelve more minutes to return to the island and the fleet. Given its damaged state, I wasn't sure the B-52 would be able to land at one of the damaged airfields. The surviving- the idea made me jump- crew might have to bail out and let the plane crash in the ocean.

The radar suddenly started beeping. The sound was impossible not to recognize. It sent an immediate jolt down my spine.

"Bogey." All four of us stated at the same time. I watched the two small gray arrows on the radar slowly approach the blue ones that represented us.

"Bogey aircraft spotted." I radioed the carrier. I was proud of myself for sounding calm, but something seemed different that I couldn't describe.

"Interrogate it." Captain Ryman ordered. In code speak, that meant determine its faction.

"Squawking IFF." Heather announced she was sending the signal. I waited, watching the two arrows get closer and closer. The computer beeped again in a different tone.

"Sour!" Madeline yelled- the equivalent of 'no'. The arrows immediately turned red. I was aware of my hand tightening on the stick.

"Admiral, this is Raven 3-3. Hostile aircraft closing fast." Kayla reported. Heather took the diplomatic approach.

"Attention Lazurian aircraft, you are entering-" She didn't get any further. A blaring tone in my headset told me we were being locked on. Without thinking- something I was not use to - I jerked the stick and rolled the plane. The tone stopped.

"Bandits are firing on us." I replied, slightly out of breath. We'd descended in the role, and the bomber was above us. I looked up just in time to see two missiles hit it and destroy it. "Bomber is down!" I yelled.

"Engage and destroy the hostiles. Reinforcements are on their way." Admiral Ryman promised. Two planes raced over the fragments on the bomber now falling into the sea. I recognized them as MiG-29s, the Lazurian strategic and performance equivalent of the F-15. They both split apart and spun around. I realized one was coming for us.

Over the radio, I heard Kayla made a very un-ladylike exclamation. I held down the afterburner and sped up, veering up and to the right; fighting so low to the water was not a viable tactic. The enemy pilot turned to meet us head on. Outside, I saw bright tracer rounds fly through the air just a few feet away. The MiG sped past.

I twisted the stick and spun the aircraft around. In this situation, we had the technological advantage. Our planes had more maneuverability. And from what I'd witnessed, the enemy had already discharged a portion of their arms.

"I'm pulling up behind it!" I called. I was faintly aware of Kayla and Madeline saying something, but I couldn't understand it. I quickly caught up to the MiG, banking to the left when it did the same.

"Tracking." Heather said, a slow beeping supported her words. "Locked!" The beep became continuous. The MiG suddenly pulled up, doing a full 180 degree turn and flying back at us, its gun blazing. The plane shook as the rounds struck it.

"We're hit!" I wasn't sure which one of us shouted it. But rather then shaking violently, the F-18 kept flying. Upon testing the stick, the plane still responded.

"Non critical damage." I panted- when did I start panting? I looked at the HUD and realized we were losing altitude before quickly pulling back up.

"It's circling around again." Heather warned me. I looked out the canopy and saw the fighter was turning around to attack our tail. My eyes locked on the left wing. Several bullet holes had created a puncture line across the wing. It was hard to look away, and I only did so when the plane warned we were being tracked.

I immediately banked down and right. The MiG was unable to match the move and turned left, towards where Kayla and Madeline was engaged with the other fighter. It sped straight for them.

"Raven 3-3, enemy fighter is tracking you!" I immediately chased after the fighter; if it shot them down, we'd have to fight off both jets ourselves. "Tracking…Locked!" Heather shouted. "Fox 2!" The plane shook slightly as one of the missiles, a AIM-9, detached and streaked towards the enemy fighter.

The enemy pilot did not immediately try to evade; they fired at Madeline and Kayla before launching into a aggressive role. It turned out they had hesitated too long and the missile still found them. The MiG exploded in a large fireball, and I had to role the plane to avoid shrapnel.

"Enemy down!" I was startled by the excitement in my voice. I immediately turned back to situation at hand. Kayla and Madeline had managed to dodge the missile, having been given plenty enough time. The remaining Lazurian fighter immediately broke off and headed North- home.

All four of us gave chase. No longer worried with tracking us, the enemy has going as fast as possible. Our planes were faster, however. We all locked on the plane around the same time and fired. The enemy fighter deployed flares and rolled. It fooled our missile, but not 3-3s. The plane exploded and rapidly lost altitude.

"Bandits down! Say again, both enemy aircraft have been shot down. Sky clear." Heather radioed.

"Copy, return immediately." Captain Ryman ordered. Despite still having a large load of munitions, the enemy might send out a stronger party. We all turned and headed back in the direction of the carrier. The adrenaline started ebbing and I became more aware of my feelings.

My body was coated with sweat, my bladder felt full, and my hand was shaking. All signs as anxiety, something I shouldn't have been feeling- we'd won. Without realizing it, I turned and looked at the visual damage on the wing. That couldn't killed us… It would've if we hadn't shot them down.

"_I just helped kill someone."_ I'd accepted the possibility, and even expected it. There wasn't a crushing feeling of guilt, but I couldn't help but shudder.

"Everyone okay?" Madeline asked.

"We're okay… The planes slightly damaged." I tried to steady my breathing. The radar beeped as four blue arrows appeared ahead of us- reinforcements. _"Too late to help. How inefficient."_ The planes were from the native squadron stationed on the carrier. They pulled up beside us. At the very least, it made us less of a target.

"Tired?" One of the other pilots asked. I remembered that they had been the ones to repel to attack on the port- they had already seen combat. "It only happens the first time." He assured. I found their words useless.

Our return didn't relieve the tension. The fleet and the island had become much more alert and jumpy. Almost immediately after landing we were rushed to debriefing. We passed several pilots who were forming a much larger patrol. The debriefing was even more tense.

Admiral Ryman tapped his fingers on the desk in front of him. Captain Benedict stood behind him. On the right side of the room, Air Wing Commander Stancill stood with the Air Wing Commander of the _Pontus_, his uniform proclaimed him a Colonel Prins. Kerrigan hovered behind the four of us like a hawk, but as we were her flight, she had the right.

"This is a dilemma." Admiral Ryman stated. He looked up at us. "You said the bomber was damaged when you found it?" My stomach dropped; I'd completely forgotten about the bomber.

"_Idiot!" _I scolded myself. Then another realization hit me: they had been shot down when we should've been protecting them. Now I did feel guilty. My stomach tingled. Admiral Ryman was still looking at us expectantly, and I could feel Kerrigan glaring at us from behind. "Yes sir." I breathed. "We- we couldn't save it." Captain Ryman nodded.

"The enemy had already gotten into range by the time the IFF identified them!" Madeline blurted, mortified at the idea too. Who had been in the bomber? What if they had husbands? Wives? Kids? The image of an alone child crying forced itself into my mind. I felt bile rise in my throat.

"Casualties are inevitable in war." Admiral Ryman admitted. "You all did admirably despite your age. War does weigh heavy on younger minds." He shook his head. "You four are excused from duty for now. Based on what happen today, we may have to re-think our priorities- there may allied units further north that need our help. You four are dismissed."

I admit, reluctantly, the first thing I did do was run to the bathroom and throw up. It was a question that would stick with me forever perhaps: who were they? My parents, supportive and still hopefully alive, had sat down and asked me if enlisting was something I could handle. I'd told them it was, and I thought I'd accepted. They'd also shown polite skepticism at my desire to be a pilot and suggested I tried a less direct position. I insisted for nothing else but such a prestigious position and that I could handle its hurdles.

"_An error in judgment." _I was perhaps understating that. But it wasn't as if I could file for a reassignment- the wartime situation (the idea still made my stomach twist) wouldn't allow it. I'd made the decision, and I'd sworn an oath to it for that matter- my honor and reputation was on the line. It was a arrangement I'd have to bare with, I realized that. And those who stayed through a rough patch usually reaped rewards afterwards.

Still, the whole situation seemed so much more difficult. 'It only happens the first time', that's what the pilot had said. The very idea seemed inhumane, even savage, and definitely inappropriate for a lady. But I'd agreed to it, and so had the bomber crew, and so had the enemy pilots. We'd all taken the same oath, we all accepted the risks and gambled our very honor. I wasn't sure why I'd forgotten I'd had that strong dedication, but no more!

I used some paper to wipe my mouth and flushed the embarrassing mess away. At the sink, I splashed some water on my face and stood up straight. I readjusted my uniform in the mirror till I looked poster perfect. Kerrigan- I hadn't noticed she'd followed me - exited one of the stalls and walked up to a nearby sink.

Even though I was fixing my hair, I noticed her looking at me in the reflection. She was probably displeased with our reactions. But I refused to feel bad just because I had the heart she didn't. I grabbed my helmet off the sink (I'd placed it there when I first came in) and ignored her as I left.

When I got back to the room, I was slightly annoyed to see a crowd.

"Hey… you alright?" Vincent asked. He was standing in the hallway.

"I'm fine." I said. "I had to use the restroom." It wouldn't have been appropriate to say I'd been puking, though Kerrigan probably knew. David, Amy, and Tanya were in the small room, forcing the others onto their bunks.

Heather looked calm, if not a little green. But I was certain she'd had a similar revelation. Madeline looked feint, but okay. Kayla looked neutral as always.

"And the lady of the hour arrives." Amy hugged me. Tanya hesitantly gave me a pat on the shoulder.

"Hey!" I protested as David grabbed my helmet from my arms. He turned around and then handed it back. There was a scratch on side. "Why did you do that?" I huffed.

"It's a mark." He stated. "A symbol. One kill, one strike." I didn't flinch away, I snatched the helmet back and safely stored it.

"Well I'm not proud of it, but I did what I had to. And I will again if I have to." I sat down on my bunk. The temperature in the room might've dropped. Tanya and Madeline averted their gaze and I heard Vincent walk off. David was the only one who nodded. It was quiet. "Kerrigan is probably coming down here." I warned. Technically, we weren't allowed to have company, so they quickly departed. Sure enough, Kerrigan walked in less then a minute later. She looked around at all of us.

"I am pleased with your performances today." Her voice was flat. "I expect as much in the future." She too left. Kayla snorted once the door was closed.

"Do you think they'll really move North?" Madeline frowned. "What about the people here? They need help too."

"Other forces up North need support as well." Heather point. "Humanitarian aid isn't…our specialty." She sounded unsure. That worried me. I had to talk to her later.

"But we'll do it if we have to?" I pressed. "I don't like it anymore then you do, just thinking about it makes my stomach upset, but its necessary."

"You have to make sacrifices to move forward." Heather said. I nodded.

"Well, I'm not going to let this situation hold me down." I stated. "We're probably younger then most pilots, but that's no reason to back down."

"I'm in it for the long term." Heather jumped down.

"Third!" Kayla raised a arm. Madeline still looked feint, but nodded.

"Well, if meteors really did hit, we could have it worse." She thought. She was right; there was no telling how bad things had gotten. But we had a stable platform to stand on. And now I had no intention of stepping off of it.

X Nate 4 Days after meteors X

I watched the APC pull into place and the soldiers inside jump out. Just a few months ago, I would've thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Now… it only made me think about the battle. I _killed _someone. How the hell do you put glory on that? You couldn't.

Maybe that was why I'd spent the last day just laying around. I felt too tired to do anything. It wasn't as if they were short handed; from what I'd overheard from Captain Sallee, about, they had about five thousand soldiers split between a couple of the nearby cities and towns.

They'd be fine without me, just like everyone else. Besides, the street we were suppose to be guarding was already covered by the APC. The others weren't even paying attention, they were playing cards!

It made me mad, seeing them acting as if nothing was wrong. They'd had as much a part of me-they were killers too. I didn't want to be in the same boat as them. I wasn't like them!

I pulled out the now crumpled sheet of paper I'd been carrying in my breast pocket. It didn't really matter what the message said, it was the hand writing. Where was Maria right now? It didn't matter what happened; I couldn't forget, and I never would. _"Please be okay."_

"Jeez man, get up and live!" Marcus stood over me. "Seriously dude, they might stick you with latrine duty if you get caught snoozing.

"I don't care." I stuffed the paper back. He shook his head and left. I rolled over and faced the air conditioner. _"I really wish we didn't have to stay on this roof."_

"Alpha Company officers form up!" Captain Sallee yelled from the street. I sat up. Were we being deployed again? I didn't want to! I glanced anxiously other the side of the roof at the people gathered below.

"What's up?" Marcus asked. He knelt beside me. "Damn." He muttered when Lieutenant Whitley stepped back and looked up at us.

"Pack up and get down here!" He ordered. I was filled with a sense of dread when we got down there and saw a few trucks and Humvees parked there. "Load up." He pointed to one of the trucks. We pushed the trunk into the bed and climbed up. The other crews were already there with their machine guns.

"So what are we doing?" Eugene asked.

"Hell if I know." One of them spat off the side of the truck. We had to move over when some other guys climbed in with their rifles. Lieutenant Whitley climbed up and sat down beside us.

"All right men, General Walraven has trusted us, or should I say, the 81st Battalion, with an important mission." He began. As far as I was concerned, important meant the same as dangerous. "We are being tasked with a expeditionary mission." I felt sick all of a sudden.

"I heard Colonel Emmet asked for the mission personally." One of the soldiers commented.

"Isn't a Battalion pretty big for this mission?" Another asked.

"The word that passed down the chain said we're splitting into several groups." Whitley explained as the truck rumbled to life. "I'm not sure where we'll be going yet."

"But-" I couldn't help myself.

"We'll find out when we get there, Private." Whitley growled. I shut up, and I stayed quiet and kept looking at my feet for the next hour. I did look up when we stopped, but it was only a checkpoint.

We were on a highway. I guess we were set up here because it was the quickest way to move. We all passed through vehicle by vehicle till we were moving at full speed again. How far were we from the town? The base? Home? My chest hurt.

"Company F, G, and H are detaching from the convoy." I looked up and saw some of the trucks and Humvees near the end of the convoy pull onto a exit.

"I guess we'll be going to the last area." One of the soldiers said. He was right. In the next twenty minutes parts of the convey kept breaking off till was just some of us.

"What are we looking for, anyway?" Someone asked.

"Civilians, friendly units, enemy units. I'm pretty sure we're just checking how far this sky goes." Everyone looked up. It was still red. "We must be at least a hundred miles from base." I felt queasy.

"It's too fucking quiet." Lieutenant Whitley said as we pulled onto a off ramp. The road afterwards was deserted. I leaned over the side and looked. There was nothing in the distance or on either side of the road. Why was it even here?

I turned around and leaned forward. _"This place is creepy."_

"What's with the road to nowhere?" Marcus asked. "Seriously?"

"We don't know, that's why we're here." Whitley said. He was apparently becoming very irritated with all the questions.

"Heh." Marcus tipped his helmet down and apparently fell asleep.

"It is kind of stupid." Eugene said. I jumped; I hadn't expected him to say anything. "I mean, what if there's something out there?"

"Y-yeah." I sat up. The truck stopped. "Huh?"

"What gives?" Marcus sat up.

"Quiet! All of you!" Lieutenant ordered. He leaned over the side of the truck. "What the hell is going on?"

"Road's gone!" Someone shouted back. Everyone started fighting trying to get a look. Due to my size, I was actually able to squeeze between two people. I let out a startled shout.

"_Oh god." _I shrunk back. The road _was _gone. Hell, the ground was to! It was like a cliff, a drop off. Air for as long as anyone could see. Just staring at it made me want to throw up.

"Back up! Turn around." Someone was yelling. "We're going to join one of the other groups."

"Red sky. Dead earth. Bottomless pits in the middle of the road?" One of the infantry soldiers held up a finger. "This, my brothers, is the end of the world." That sentence did me in. The others shrunk away and started cursing when I threw up over the side.

"Jeez, man, pull yourself together!"

"Give a break, he's a fucking kid." I slunk back in embarrassment.

"_Please. Anything to get me out of this uniform." _It was starting to get to the point I'd lose my foot if it meant being able to get rid of my gun.

"Cracker?" I looked up.

"Huh?"

"You want a cracker?" One of the infantry soldiers was holding out a pack. My stomach felt empty now, so I did.

"Thanks." I muttered.

"No problem. We all gotta share now anyway." He stashed the pack away while I stuffed my face. The convoy turned around and we headed back to way we came. I was hoping we'd just go to town, but that wasn't the case; we turned onto a off ramp one of the other convoys had gone on, but this one had a town on it at least. We road in.

"Okay." Lieutenant Whitley leaned forward and motioned to all of us. "Like any city, there's going to be a main road that handles most the traffic. I want both 240s overlooking the street." He turned to us. "I want that mortar to be able to hit anything on the road, and the surrounding streets. Everyone got it?"

"Yes sir." We all echoed. My stomach felt nauseous again. The infantry Sergeant stood up and began giving his own orders.

"Same drill as before: search for survivors, supplies, and signs of hostile personnel. Let's… oh dear God." The way his eyes widened was enough to make us look over the edge on the narrow street we were driving on.

Dead bodies. Dead bodies everywhere. I wasn't sure what happened, but next thing I could tell, I was screaming and flailing around wildly and there were people trying to grab me. I struggled. This was too much, I was leaving!

"Hold…still!" One of them gasped.

"He's having a panic attack!"

"Subdue him!" A arm wrapped around my neck. I tried to scream and couldn't. The world went black.

XX Author's Note XX

I think I did passably well for a aerial combat scene. Matching up real world equipment in terms of comparability is difficult, and there are some odd matches. For instance, A-1 Sky Raiders (dusters) did serve along side Jet craft, but only briefly. In the first leg, early on, I based the units on in-game appearance. Now I usually do so based on their real life service years; F-18s and MiG-29s were around the same time.

Both characters have had a taste of blood, but now they need a break, one more then the other.

Review if you have the time! I promise the next chapter won't take so long; school testing isn't in the way now.


	10. Chapter 10

X RNS _Pontus_ Command Deck X

"I'd offer you some of my Champagne, Brigadier General, but I left it on the _Odin_." Admiral Ryman said, resting his hands on the table. Brigadier General Barajas, commander of the four-thousand Marines traveling with the fleet, nodded sympathetically.

"I imagine its difficult leaving your ship behind." He offered his condolences.

"She actually wasn't badly damaged." Admiral Ryman revealed. "If we can get her to a dry dock, she can probably sail again within three months. "We just got to find a dry dock. In the meantime, the Fleet is still operational."

"Then we can make our next move." Barajas stated. Ryman nodded and took out a folder.

"Our original invasion planes." The War Department issued out new orders to its air and naval forces at the beginning of every month, usually with additional units, for targets and objectives to take/destroy if war every broke out. Admiral Ryman stared at it. "I originally disregarded it, thinking everyone would be hunkering down and recovering, but that has proved to not be the case. Everyone just started throwing punches." He slid the folder across the table.

"Originally, the fleet would sail for that major port and eliminate all enemy naval ships in the area and bombard troop barracks and destroy enemy aircraft on the ground."

"While my men went ahead and captured the local airfield and small airport." General Barajas was as deeply familiar with the plan.

"What concerns me, if the next phase." Admiral Ryman admitted. "After our initial attack, a amphibious landing force of an additional 5,000 Marines would land and solidify a beachhead. An Army division would land soon after." Ryman tapped the table with a finger. "If those units already deployed without us…"

"They may already be dead." General Barajas finished. Amphibious landing fleets had very little major firepower; that role would be filled by the fleet already scheduled to be there. Up against defenses and aircraft though, the destroyers and frigates wouldn't have been able to do much. The Army division would've had no means of defense. "You plan to sail there?"

"Yes." Admiral Ryman confirmed. "He stared out the window to the island. "Your men have helped restore electricity and water, so the island shouldn't die off if we leave. I want to go see if these men are there, and, if they are there, convince them to fall back to the mainland. We need all troops at home right now."

"So when do we leave?" The General asked.

"I sent a submarine to scout the area. It'll report back soon enough. Still, there are some islands along the way I feel the need to check. We'll be leaving as soon as you recall your men."

"We'll be leaving in five minutes, then."

X Nate 5 Days after Meteors X

"You're pushing your luck, boy." Someone growled at me as soon as I woke up. I groaned. My head felt blurry. I couldn't remember anything. A second later, I groaned again and rubbed my sore neck. "I suggest you get your shit together, or you'll find yourself on the wrong end of a rope."

Slowly, what happened came back to me. Then I screamed, and then I got tackled again. When I woke up again, I managed to avoid screaming, but only because my throat was sore. Of itself, my hand grabbed for my canteen. I sucked the entire thing down.

"Thirsty?" I spit back up some the water and looked. A soldier was casually sitting in an officer chair and cleaning his rifle. We were in a…laundry mat? I tried to push myself up, looking around at the others sleeping around me.

"Wha?" My head still hurt so I couldn't make much sense of things.

"You passed out." The soldier spelled it out for me. "Lot of guys freaked out and had to be restrained. You were one of them." Those last terrifying moments came back to my memory. I shuddered. "To be honest, I don't blame you one bit. It's all cleaned up now though. But man," He shuddered. "Really messed up stuff."

"Uh, yeah. Is there a bathroom around here?" I asked.

"Outside." He jerked a thumb towards the door. "Plumbing don't work anymore." I went outside, did what I had to, then got the hell back inside. I did not want to stay out there. With any luck, I could play off this sickness thing for a while. I grateful collapsed back on the mat I'd apparently been sleeping on.

"So uh…what are we doing here?" I asked. _"Why do we have to stay at such a horrible place?"_

"Right now? Just trying to survey our area of operations and reorganize. We still had plenty of men, but a lot of people with support MOS' are gone, so logistics and communication are a bit strained."

"Oh." I said. I'd actually asked for one of those jobs, but they said I didn't have the proper skills or ability. _"I'd still be more useful then where I am now."_

"Later, we're going to have to pack up and head to the Capital or somewhere. We're an offensive unit, you know." He shook his head. "Not sure how we're going to get there or go into battle; all the C-5s got blown to hell and back." He didn't seem to like it, but I wasn't complaining. Maybe I could get away with staying somewhere low-risk.

"Anyway, I called you CO while you were out there, so he'll come pick you up." The soldier went on. I gulped. Lieutenant Whitley showed up not too long after that.

"Stand up, Private!" He ordered and I scrambled up. He turned around and walked out. I followed quickly. "This is starting to damn ridiculous, Archey." He warned. "We have very little room for the type of behavior you've shown so far."

"It isn't fair. Others passed-" Whitley stopped so quickly I nearly ran into him. He turned around, looking absolutely angry.

"Life isn't fair, boy!" He poked a finger into my chest. "It is cold, hard, unforgiving, and will kill you unless you stand up. Do you understand, Private?!"

"Y-yes sir." I stuttered. _"I already knew that much…"_

"If it was up to me, I'd stick you with latrine duty." He threatened. I nearly fainted again. "But, we need as much support as we can get, and you're one of the only people who can use a mortar effectively." The look on his face told me he'd rather I didn't. He jerked a finger behind him. "Their up on the roof of the bank." He pointed down the street. And don't even think about running. We've already shot three men for desertion." He looked at me challengingly. I didn't call his bluff, and quickly hurried.

"Well, look who the cat dragged in!" Marcus called as I climbed the ladder. Due to my fear of heights, they had to pull me the rest of the way up. "Good to see you man!" He patted me on the back. "Everyone else has lost their mind in the past day even though the streets were cleaned up." I'd noticed, and was thankful.

"That was messed up." I was still trembling.

"I blew chunks too, dude." Marcus nodded. "And I ain't a stranger to blood!" He waved a finger. "I grew up on a farm seeing animals give birth. But the people here-" He shuddered. "What's worse, no one has any idea what caused it; bodies don't deteriorate that fast." All this talk was making feel sick. I would've thrown up again, but my stomach was completely empty and hollow.

Instead, I just laid down against the roof. The metal was cool and somehow relaxing.

"You might want to stay awake." Eugene warned. His tone said he still didn't like me either. "Another detachment sent out a warning about possible enemy recon planes."

"What?!" I jerked up. "But things just got destroyed!" _"They can't attack that quickly!" _

"Five days seems plenty if you ask me." Marcus shrugged. "We've been expecting it for so long, it ain't even surprising." He was right, but that didn't make me feel any better. "Our shift ends in an hour, by the way." He added. That was the first good news I'd heard all day.

The hour passed quickly enough, even though we didn't say anything. We all had to take turns with binoculars looking out into the distance. They'd put us on a building close to the highway that ran through the town, so that we could see and fire on it. There were a few barricades there made of APCs too.

The hour passed, but we didn't dare move until Lieutenant Whitney came and dismissed us. We left the mortar up there, in case we quickly had to man it again. Going back to the tents actually was a good sign; everything looked set up so that we'd be here a while. I really didn't want to move again.

We all shared a tent with a few other soldiers I recognized as from one of the machine gun crews. Everyone pretty much was minding their own business. I pulled out the letter and read it again. The harsh words seemed so out of character for her But they were there in her hand writing:

'_Dear Nate:_

_I'm sorry. But after thinking about it, I realized that I really, really need to write this letter. What Russell and you did still plays on the news every night, and everyone is still obviously upset. I'm still upset too. You should know, that all of the news stations have videos of your arrest. Everyone knows you and Russell now. Do you care? Are you even embarrassed? Everyone thinks you're both dangerous hoodlums. I can almost agree. Do you know what it's been like for your family and me? _

That part of the paper was slightly stained, like it was been drenched in water. Or tears.

"_Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" _I felt like beating my head against the wall. I folded the rest without reading it.

She had urged me to work a bit harder in school, amongst other things. I'd put a few of them off, but not all. She had told me I shouldn't hang out with Russell so much. I hadn't listened to that though. And look where it'd gotten me…

"Well, goodnight!" Marcus rolled over on his cot.

"Goodnight?" One of the machine gun men asked. "It's goddamn five in the morning! There ain't no night or day anymore." That didn't sound so bad. Or at least, it wasn't the worst problem.

I laid down and started to drift off. I wasn't sure if I fell asleep or not, but someone started shaking my shoulder. I jerked up and fell off the bed. Marcus pulled me up pretty quickly.

"Dude, get outside!" He yelled. Half-afraid, half tired, it took we a moment to recognize a sound outside: a helicopter.

"What?" Confused, I stumbled outside with the others. We all started staring around wildly. We all saw the helicopter at about the same time, since it flew right over us. I recognized it too, mostly from movies. My legs nearly buckled.

"Oh crap, that's a enemy Hind!" The sight seemed to send panic throughout the entire town.

"Everyone to your stations!" The order traveled like wildfire. I allowed my self to be swept along with the group. I felt sick. No, I felt like I was going to pass out. That was a Lazurian helicopter. They were the same people who wanted to kill us. They had more weapons then those mercenaries had. They'd shoot without even thinking about it.

"_I don't want to die! I still need to apologize to Maria…"_ I kept watching the helicopter, afraid it would shoot me at any moment. For some reason, it didn't. It just flew around. Someone fired a rocket at it that missed. It started firing then, blowing up everything below it. I ducked under a nearby bench without even thinking about it.

It was a good thing too. The helicopter began blowing up a lot more stuff after that. I didn't dare look up till the sound of its blades were gone. Even then, I was shaking so bad I didn't want to look up; I could here all the screaming and burning from what it had hit.

"If that wasn't a scout, I don't know what is." Eugene grabbed me and pulled me from my spot. He looked absolutely terrified.

"There'll be more coming." One of the machine gunners guaranteed. "Hurry up!" I was beginning to panic. They had more weapons, which would mean a bigger battle. The small one had scared the hell out of me. How would I survive this one?

"Man, this is B.S." Marcus complained as we finally reached our mortar. I collapsed gratefully beside it; I didn't think my legs would've held up much longer anyway. "We got the highway zeroed in?" He readjusted the mortar.

"What is they come in by the air?" I asked. I didn't like heights. And I sure didn't like anything with weapons that flew either. How could we fight against planes and helicopters? Marcus didn't seem to know either.

"Then I guess we're dead."

X Vera 6 Days after Meteors X

I was still thoroughly ashamed of my reaction to the previous battle. I trained for over a year for this position: a full year in officer school after I graduated the private school I'd attended when I was seventeen, and another four months in pilot school. In both courses I'd seen a fair amount of disturbing content: plane crashes, combat footage, injuries due to improper flying and maintenance. I'd stomached it all, but the real thing…

The real world was unpleasant, I knew that much. I had my share of such encounters, but nothing coming close to what I'd witnessed and done. I'd had a pet Persian cat that had passed away from old age when I was fourteen, but that was natural. War was different. Very different. I didn't care to think about what exactly it was though, and turned my attention to other things.

The fleet was relatively well intact, know that I'd had more then a fair amount of time to observe it. The other two carriers, including the _Pontus_ had survived, though the _Odin_ shared the un-honorable fate of being stuck inland with what might be a quarter of the entire Navy. Thinking back to when those massive waves had battered the ship made me shudder.

The Navy hadn't switched fully to a carrier centered force, so there were still three battleships in the fleet, the _Garm_ being the oldest and most decorated. Given objections by Marine Commanders in charge of planning amphibious assaults against Lazuria, it seemed as if battleships would never be completely shunned. The nine 406mm guns each had, while no where near technologically advanced, were rather powerful. The ships did give off a decent sense of protection.

Cruisers were the last major warship in the Navy's battle fleets. They had guided missiles for combat against other ships, submarines, and aircraft. They also carried search and rescue helicopters, or attacks helicopters for the Marine Corps. There were still thirty two cruisers serving the fleet, a formidable anti-ship, anti-air and anti-submarine force. Cruisers often influenced a Admiral's choice whether to deploy air forces.

The rest of the larger ships were either frigates and destroyers assigned for extra firepower, auxiliary ships, or ships carrying the men and equipment of the Marine force traveling with the fleet.

Force projection and amphibious landings were a major focus of the Navy. If we weren't flying for naval supremacy or air interdiction, we were supporting Marine operations. The five thousand men and women, or what was left of them, were respectable people for the most part: brave, intelligent, and serious when it was required. Like my squad mates, they did act a bit unprofessional during off time. Some of the male Marines had a tendency to ask me out, even though I repeatedly declined.

I'd only seen two Gunboats in my entire time back with the fleet. Not proper warships by any count; the Coast Guard and National Guard used them frequently for internal security operations and law enforcement. But the Navy used them in small numbers for engaging smaller craft, but some had challenged battleships and won. Their offensive power versus their size wasn't a valid argument against giant waves; most of them had probably been swept under the brown, murky water.

"The ecological damage will be extreme." I commented. Heather hummed agreement. After being stuck on this ship nearly two days, we'd finally decided to discuss the issue. There was hardly anywhere the two of us could have a private conversation on the ship; Madeline and Kayla shared the room with us, the break room was always full, and no matter what other girls believed, the restroom was not a proper meeting place.

Below the flight deck, there were a flew placed in the carriers vast interior design that jutted out into walkways. Usually they were used for firearms practice or a alternative route. It was a relatively private place to have a conversation- if you could find a subject to discuss.

We'd spent the last several minutes just making one sided comments on the sights. To be fair, it was unfamiliar; we usually had discussions over coffee when we stopped in ports. And it was a difficult subject to discuss. One of the goals of military training was to detach soldiers from emotion. Going through basic training, then officer school hadn't had that effect on me.

"_It's impossible to eliminate human empathy; we're too intelligent for it."_ Some of us anyway… I shook my head. Guilt was the source of the problem. I kept thinking about that bomber crew. Who had they been? What if they'd been like me? Young, intelligent, and destined for greatness? So much wasted potential. I blinked and shook my head.

"Do you think there was anything else we could've done?" I blurted out. I flushed and turned. "We followed procedure." It was a pathetic excuse. I followed common practice and procedure, but I still realized the value of improvising.

"I don't think something as savage and barbaric as war can have procedure." Heather said distastefully. "The damage had already been done by the time we got there. Those poor people probably weren't going to be able to take that plane far enough to get to the fleet." Her voice dropped as the sentence went on. "They still trusted us."

That was one of the things that really affected me. I always strived to be reliable and dependable; that's how you make good business connects and attract partners, or voters. _"War isn't politics, though."_ I realized that, but I had been sure that that behavior was universally helpful and possible. "I hate this." I said. "It's hard to think and operate when you aren't in control." Heather nodded in agreement.

Neither of us spoke again after that. We silently agreed to go back to our compartment and started walking. It had been inconclusive. I still had a painful feeling in my stomach, unsure of what to do or think. _"I wonder how many other people in the military have this feeling."_ I surely couldn't be the only one.

Oddly, Kayla and Madeline were absent when we got back to the room. It was unusual; in a ship this crowded, you either had business or a job to attend to, or you stayed in your room. Our confusion was answered with a knock on the door.

"You guys just get back?" It was Vincent's voice. Heather opened the door to see him standing there. He took a step back. "Everyone's crowded in the break room." He explained. "Someone got managed to get a TV signal. I'm not sure what the big deal is, though; I haven't gone down there yet."

"Is that allowed?" I questioned. Usually, certain groups were allowed the room on certain days. Vincent shrugged.

"Not sure, but I'm going down there."

"Hmm." A TV? "If they found a news channel…we can find out what's going on!" I blushed at how excited I sounded and controlled myself. "Right…thank you for the information." I nodded at Vincent. He respectfully stepped back when I stepped into the hallway and made for the break room.

"Which service do you think is still up? Not that it matters, really." Heather caught up to me. I frowned. All of the news outlets were pro-war and pro-government, regardless of what public opinion was at the moment. I preferred the news paper; it was much more neutral.

"Whichever is, they should at least let us know about the state of the country. At least, they'd better." I huffed. With David walking just slightly behind us, we entered- or tried to enter- the break room. There had to be maybe fifty people stuffed in there. I couldn't even hear the TV over the officers trying to keep order. Repulsed, I turned around. Vincent already had taken a few steps back; as far as I'd ever seen, he didn't like large crowds.

"Ridiculous." Heather shook her head.

"The others are in there, they'll tell us later." Vincent suggested. As much as I hated second-hand news, it was better then no news. In the meantime, we'd be perfectly fine waiting back in our compartments.

"I do wonder what's going on in the rest of the world." Heather admitted. "Not just here, but around the world." I nodded; education and news extended only to the hemisphere. It was nearly impossible to find information on other countries in the world. Both countries had very poor diplomatic relations with outside countries. In fact, the only foreign relations were trade agreements, and even those were slightly rickety.

"I doubt anywhere was spared." I replied. Meteors…having not seen it, it was nearly impossible to imagine. In fact, it was still possible it was something else entirely. "It's more of the question of how bad." I said smartly. Heather nodded.

"It would depend on the impact points, the distance from bodies of water, the terrain." She ticked off factors on her fingers. "And of course, preparation time." I nodded at each valid point.

"I bet," I said accusingly, "that is the government had invested more in space technology then in tanks, this could've been prevented." If I'd been in charge, it certainly would have been.

"You have to admit though, it is a far-fetched occurrence." I frowned. She was right, of course; of all possible occurrences, it was certainly amongst the less likely. Still, people generally were suppose to consider all possibilities.

"_I didn't plan for this though."_ I shouldn't have had too, either. "I suppose the government shouldn't take all the blame." I admitted reluctantly. I yawned and politely covered my mouth. Heather yawned as well; it was getting late, at least according to our internal clocks.

"I think I'll just wait tomorrow to hear the news." I nodded agreement; it'd be easier to process the information after a nap. We both shrugged off our flight suits (they were still the warmest option, even if they weren't comfortable), and changed into a pair of sleeping clothes.

"This is starting to look infected…" I stepped into one of the pant legs and stopped. The mark on my upper leg was still quite visible, and now an angry red. Heather bent down to observe it. It wasn't awkward; we were serious enough to be open on all subjects. Kayla or Madeline probably would've made a stupid comment or joke.

"No." Heather concluded. "It just looks deep." She stood back up.

"I thought the same thing." I finished putting on the attire, fortunately a second before Kayla and Madeline burst into the room without so much as a warning. I immediately dismissed my complaint about privacy: they both looked fairly distressed.

"It's official: There's a war." Madeline breathed out. I'd expected as much, but it still made me recoil.

"How bad is it?" I asked.

"Horrible." Even Kayla sounded dejected. "There are Lazurian troops on our mainland. Some of ours are either fighting them, or invading Lazuria. We're talking about thousands of troops. And it isn't in one area; it's everywhere. I slumped down onto the bunk.

That was it, that was the final confirmation I needed. This wouldn't be ignored, it would be fought to the finish. _I'd_ have to fight in to the finish. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I'd trained for this, and I staked my reputation on saying I would do it, and so, I was going to do it.

The situation was further punctuated when Kerrigan barged in several minutes later. She ranted on for several minutes about the value of being prepared, and that she'd ensure we were completely and efficiently on a time table and that she would accept no wrong doing, amongst other things. She made a perfect about face and stormed out of the room.

Judging my the surprised yelp in the next room, she evidently caught one of the others by surprise. Kayla shut the door, muttering something obscene under her breath. The ranting was nothing new; we'd get it or a similar one every time there was hype in the news or some scandal on the ship, usually do to Josh or Hannah. I dismissed the possibility of any action.

It might have been resignation, or it might have been fatigue, but we all just climbed into our cots after that. There was some dull feeling: a weariness to go into combat. I was sure there were hundreds, maybe even thousands of military members on both sides who felt the same way. The thought helped me fall asleep.

XX Author's Note XX

Took a while to do this, mainly because of planning. Since this leg is so large and closely intertwined with the Lazurian leg, I've paused progress just to chart the entire thing out: characters, battles, Divisions and Fleets, everything. The document I using to record it all is already twenty(!) pages. But it is coming along nicely, so I should be able to return to a normal pace soon.


	11. Chapter 11

XX Author's Note XX

Ain't I just on a role? Well, summer vacation is here, so I ain't as busy. And so, updates will be rolling off the press at high speed now! Again, some naval and other military terminology may be unfamiliar to users, but I'll try not to confuse people.

X Lazuria X

"Someone use an Abram to push that out of the way! We need to keep this road open" Rubinelle Marine Corps Colonel James Mather yelled. Following the demise of the Brigadier General and the Army Colonel, the younger Mather was left as the only one in authority of the ragtag team of Army and Marine fighters trying to hold out in the small coastal town.

Following all of hell that had fallen, the men and officers of the 17th Marine Expeditionary Unit had quickly moved out to their pre-determined assault point. The Navy, evidently, hadn't. The teamwork between the two branched were vital to each individual branches success and extended to the other two branches. The course of events of their landing proved that.

Though disorganized, Lazuria forces in the region had managed to sink all the vessels that had delivered the Marines. Even if most of the equipment had been unloaded before, it had been a blow. From there, the Marines that had gotten aground and battled through the streets to seize the nearby airport housing both civilian and military air traffic and hold it for the Army. Though they succeeded and destroyed the enemy's air power, the airport was quickly encircled.

This proved extremely deadly later, when Air Force transport planes carrying in the Army's forces came to land. Lazurian AA had plucked many of the planes out of the sky, sending them crashing into the city and causing untold destruction. Only a fraction of the depleted division landed. Rather then 25,000 men, they had 9,000 men. Rather then 15,000 infantry soldiers, they had 6,500, instead of 2,000 tanks, they had 174. Rather then artillery and anti-air batteries, they had a few scattered pieces. Despite the depleted numbers and the gaps in chain of command, they had pushed out and taken most of the town, rejoining some men who had survived their plane going down.

But now they found themselves encircled yet again. Lazurian AA missile batteries hidden in the hills effectively kept the Rubinelle attack helicopters grounded at the airport. Efforts to destroy the batteries had failed. Lazurian anti-tank guns and infantry had locked down the highways leading out of the city. Two Cruisers had parked in the docks, out of the range of artillery fire. Sporadic enemy artillery and rocket fire also fell on the town. Combined with the occasional air strike, it was a grim situation, further punctuated by insult from the enemy.

While Lazuria hadn't spent too much money on military modernization, Rubinelle had piled on debt doing the exact opposite. The result was the development of advanced and flawless war machines: Planes with advanced missiles and bombs, tanks with 105mm cannons and nearly impregnable armor, ships with guided munitions, not to mention rifles, rocket launchers, and other things. The Colonel looked at the Abram in pride, then grimaced at the ugly mass it was removing from the rode: a KV-1.

The Great War-era heavy tank's cannon and armor were less then of a half of the Abrams. The smaller T-34-85 light tank had a 85mm gun that made it a slight threat, but still grossly inferior. The cruisers in the harbor were only equipped with regular guns, and the shrill rocket fire was from ancient, crude, but terrifying and deadly katyushas. For all of Rubinelle's modern weapons, Lazuria was using it's older equipment to great effect. Only about a third of the Lazurian military had modern weapons, which was still substantial considering its size. Colonel Mather sincerely hoped they wouldn't encounter those forces.

Currently, the Colonel was attempting to clear an avenue for the tanks to escape. The plan was for the artillery pieces to fire on the anti-tank guns covering the highway. This would of course invite counter fire which would certainly destroy the artillery, but the rest of the force could punch through and escape the encirclement with minimum losses. The crews would have less then a minute to fire and get the hell out of dodge, abandoning their precious artillery. But if the group could escape and hunker down in the elevated woodland, that would cease to matter. Mather was just about to order the crews to fire when an Army Corporal ran up to him.

"Sir, there's a friendly submarine that has made contact with us." Mather paused and carefully lowered his radio.

"What?" He wasn't sure he'd heard right. Had the Navy finally shown up? "Where?" He demanded. "Are there anymore ships?"

"Just the submarine." The Corporal explained.

"What the hell?" Colonel Mather spat to the side. What use would a submarine be? He followed the Corporal. The submarine had managed to slip past the cruisers, and was hiding from them behind a half-sunken lander. The Captain had climbed out onto the dock to meet him.

"Colonel." His uniform was clean and gave out a aura of perfection and neatness, compared to the grimy and torn uniforms of the surrounding ground troops. If he noticed Mather's age, he didn't state it- their ranks were nearly equal.

"Captain." They both exchanged salutes before Mather went off. "Where the hell was the Navy?" He demanded. "Do you have any idea how many men and vehicles we've lost?" The Captain did not care to guess, and ignored the question.

"Our response was halted by humanitarian operations and the loss of our flagship and several other ships. The survivors are on their way now." The Captain pulled out a piece of folded paper and handed it to the skeptical Marine Colonel.

"Destroy our vehicles and fall back?!" He sounded outraged. "We-" He stopped when he reached the bottom and saw the two signatures; a Admiral and Brigadier General, one from his own branch for that matter, were not people to defy. Mather worked his jaw. "Do we really have to abandon everything?" He demanded. So many men had died trying to preserve them.

"The ships are overcrowded as it is. I personally don't believe we can even fit all the men here." The submarine Captain shot back. Mather scowled.

"They won't be happy."

"They'll be happy to be alive." Colonel Mather was beginning to dislike the Captain.

"Fine." Mather spat to the side. "When the hell will they get here?"

"The ships will take another ten hours, I suspect." The submarine Captain ignored the vulgar response from the Marine. "But the Air Wing may be able to get here in an hour. What are you facing and where are they?" Glad to finally be getting somewhere helpful, Mather began counting off his problems.

"We got damn artillery batteries in the woods bombarding us. We got those cruisers bombarding us." Mather looked at the Captain accusingly. "The highways are locked down, and we got periodic air strikes coming in from somewhere up North." He pointed in the direction for emphasis. Then, as a afterthought, pulled out a tactical map that had been marked with the positions they knew were out there. The submarine Captain took it and nodded.

"We'll be able to sink the cruisers.. I'll radio back to situation to the fleet and they'll dispatch the Air Wing. Your men will have to be ready to retreat once the ships arrive." 'Retreat' was a very offensive word to a Marine.

"Yeah, yeah, it'll be taken care of." The Captain seemed to realize his presence was becoming unwelcome.

"We're all under stress, Colonel." He put emphasis on the word. "Now is not the time." He looked at his submarine. "We can't take out the cruisers now though; it'll throw the enemy into a frenzy too early. The Air Wing will take care of you, Colonel. Until then, patience." The two men saluted each other, forcibly, and then departed. As the submarine submerged, Mather looked around for one of his own.

"Lance Corporal!" He barked at the first Marine he spotted. The soldier in question stiffened to attention. "Find as many Marines as you can and send them here! We need recon teams. Before the hour is up, I want to know where every bastard wearing blue is!" He grinned savagely to himself. When those planes got here, it was all over for the enemy; his men would mark each of their positions for a grand cremation. "And we'll be back in the future." He said it to himself. "We'll conquer this land yet."

X Vera 7 days after meteors X

"All pilots to the briefing room! Make a head call if you need it and get to the briefing room with your flight suit in five minutes!" Kerrigan's voice echoed in the hallway when she yelled it into the room next to us. Next, she opened the door to ours and yelled the same thing before slamming it.

"Aww." Kayla yawned. "I was almost asleep." I sat up, cautious but curious.

"I wonder if we're about to find out where we're going. The whole Fleet setting out five hours ago had caused quite a bit of confusion. I privately hoped it was not a deployment announcement. But after yesterday's revelation, I knew it was impossible. So we all changed (the lack of privacy again made me nervous) and made our way down to the briefing room.

The problem with being the 'guest squadron' was we were not given the best treatment. So when we arrived in the briefing room, identical to the previous one in every way, we had to stand in the back while the native squadrons got the chairs. There were two on the carrier- the VFA-388 _Nereus_, whose leader, I came to understand, was in the ships medical bay with head trauma. The second was a Marine squadron: VMFA-451 led by Colonel Prins, who was taking over the task of Air Wing Commander.

It was part of the Navy-Marine cooperation style. The Marine Corps had its own air power, and would often contribute a fighter squadron to aircraft carriers. These fighters would general serve the Marine forces stationed with a fleet while the naval squadrons attacked other enemies. One was supposed to be assigned to a individual carrier. One had been scheduled for assignment to the _Odin_ to help the fleet's under strengthen air arm. But hadn't arrived before the meteors hit.

I noticed with a frown how few females there were in this Air Wing as well. Though I took some pride in the fact I was a higher rank then all of them. The minimum rank to fly was Ensign, which they all had. Most of flight was that rank as well. Heather and me, plus David, had all been eligible for early promotion to Lieutenant due to our scores in both officer and flying school.

"What are you smiling at?" Amanda cocked her head to the side. I controlled my features.

"Nothing." I said. She scowled. "The meeting is about to start." I pointed out.

Admiral Ryman, by comparison, seemed not at all out of place. It might as well have been the _Odin._ But was that leadership, or personal coping? "Men and women of the Rubinelle Navy, thank you for coming." He began to address us all.

"And thanks for-" Whatever Hannah had been whispering, it ended in a yelp as Kerrigan gave her a sharp tap in the ribs. It went unheard and the Admiral continued.

"We have confirmed, and are in contact with, a division worth of Rubinelle soldiers are encircled in a coastal city by the Lazurian military. The Fleet in on its way to assist these men. You are here to be briefed on your part in the operation." This caused an outbreak of whispering. I was caught off guard. A division? That was thousands of people that needed help. My insides squirmed and my legs wobbled slightly. I shook my head.

"_Get a hold of yourself. You're smart." _I should learn from my mistakes, not give up because of them.I forced myself to look at the map that had been put up while everyone was still murmuring amongst themselves.

It showed what certainly appeared to be a Lazurian coastal city, that assumption going by the fact the sea covered the southern portion. A forest stretched across the top of the area. It was a very large city, capable of housing maybe 50,000 people.

It seemed to be a industrial city, mostly. The southern portion was mostly factories, including ship building plants. A few respectable-sized harbors were there too. One was identified as a military port; that would mean dangerous anti-ship combat. There was a civilian airport and military airfield in the city too; which meant air-to-air combat. The west of the city was residential, and the east was more factories. No wonder there was a division there; that city could build and house a small Navy and Air Force on its own.

My next observation was the blue-friendly- and red-enemy- dots and lines on the map. The blue covered both airports and the east section of the city. That was good, it meant the troops would be supplied and the enemy would lack air power. Most of the red was concentrated on the upper portion of the map, in the elevator woodlands or on the highway, which meant to division was effectively trapped in the city. The last of the red was in one of the harbors, representing two ships.

All in all, it wasn't a dreadful position, despite that enemy ground troops currently held the highest point. The industrial sector was under control, which eased the supply burden. The harbors and runways were secure, which would allow more transport by air. It also allowed us and the fleet a straight path in to support the division. Once the woodland was clear, it would be a perfect staging point. Feeling strangely proud of myself, I waited for Admiral Ryman to continue.

"We are going to evacuate these forces back to the Rubinelle mainland." He announced. Now there was a outburst of protest. I felt slightly insulted. I didn't care for military matters much, but it was a grand opportunity even the stupidest people-my eyes darted to Kerrigan-could see. Ryman let the outbursts continue for a minute then raised his hand for silence. It came immediately.

"Those man don't have the resources or means to launch an offensive. We also need all available manpower to help the situation at home, which I might remind all of you isn't well." I blushed. I hadn't gone on that island… but it surely was bad. The mainland had looked just as horrible. "You will be the first component of the Fleet in this operation. Your goal is to destroy enemy forces harassing the Division." Admiral Ryman stepped back, and the intelligence officer pointed to the dot-adorned map.

"Our priority target is the artillery firing on the city." He put down two pictures, showing artillery and rocket vehicles of Lazurian manufacture and motioned to the dots that represented them. "However, the enemy has deployed anti-air artillery and missiles in the area as well." The next two pictures were of vehicles that I'd studied extensively in the training because they were the most dangerous thing to us on the ground.

The first picture was a ZSU-57-2, a twin barreled anti-air gun molded onto the body of a tank in place of a turret. They were mobile and inexpensive to manufacture. This canceled out the fact they weren't effective against modern fighters except in large numbers. They still posed a threat to helicopters, bombers, or low flying fighters, though. The second vehicle appeared to be a APC with mountain missile tubes on top; the 9k31 Strela-1. It was a highly mobile AA missile system. The missiles it carried had a range of ten miles and a top speed of 1.8 times the speed of sound which was, unfortunately, about the maximum speed of our planes. It's ability to transverse even the roughest terrain gave it a severe advantage over the Rubinelle equivalent.

Those two vehicles accompanied ground forces everywhere and were more plentiful then fighters, ironically making it more likely to be killed on a ground attack mission then an aerial engagement. They were much less noticeable then fighters, as well. They were something pilots, regardless of their aircraft, respected and feared.

"These will be our first targets." The intelligence officer drew several boxes around some of the red dots. These are the anti-aircraft missile batteries that have deployed around the time. A quick strike by Colonel Prins' flight will open the war for the rest of the air wing." Colonel Prins nodded.

"All attack flights will then begin neutralizing enemy ground forces at their discretion. Artillery and armored vehicles take priority." He motioned to the dots that represented the armored concentrations. "All fighter flights will provide air cover over the course of the attack. Captain Stancill and Captain Riske's flights will patrol the East and South of the city respectively." Our squadron leader and one of the _Nereus_ flight leads nodded. "Captain Kerrigan's flight and Captain Evan's flight will patrol the North and West sides respectively."

Everyone nodded at their orders. My nod was just a little bit tight. We'd be patrolling the North side of the city- where enemy air power was most likely to originate from. It was uncomfortable to think about, but I couldn't object.

"The Marines also report air strikes by Lazurian forces have occurred, so this will also be a interception mission." The next picture showed a prop driven aircraft, painted with the emblem of the Lazurian National Air Force- a Sturmovik, the equivalent to the Rubinelle prop-driven A-1 Sky Raider.

Both had been designed nearly sixty years ago as a fighter-bomber. Cheap, easy to maintain, and highly efficient for the time, each side produced nearly half a million of their craft in a failed bid to bomb each other into submission. By the time jets came along, there were still nearly 300,000 of the planes in each countries arsenal.

In the end, they were never scrapped due to their highly efficient ground attack value and the potential political fallout from wasting resources. All were taken out of Fighter command of both sides and re-designated as ground attack squadrons. Analyzing data from the past war, it was discovered that they actually defeated attack helicopters in terms of kills and survival rate.

Attack helicopter development still continued though, while production of the Sky Raider and Sturmovik was long since discontinued. Each side simply kept the 150,000 or so they had for a ground attack and reserve roles until the day came that they all would eventually be destroyed. After that, they would be nothing more then a mildly interesting piece of aviation and military history. Now, they were just a possible disturbance, easily dismissible.

"This operation will last several hours." Admiral Ryman took over. "We need the air space under control until our ships can arrive to evacuate the men. Assuming the Fleet faces no opposition, it may take nine hours. Once air space is secure and the ground forces are relieved, you will return to the carrier and the Air Wing of the RNS _Thalassa _launch and take over command of the air space. From there, each Air Wing will cycle out at two hour intervals."

It was practical and thoughtful- a Wing could be helping the Marines and defending the fleet simultaneously. Two hours was hardly longer then the average patrol, so it wouldn't be uncomfortable. "The planes are currently being prepped and the operation will commence in one hour. Again, I would like to remind you there are thousands of lives at stake here. We can not and will not fail." I'm sure I wasn't the only one who was uncomfortable at that statement.

Thirty minutes to prepare, technically speaking, was actually fairly slow for the normal pace of activity on a Aircraft Carrier. Regardless, the entire Air Wing was scrambling. Some were huffing down food at a disgusting pace to fend off hunger or the hours ahead. Others, or the smart ones at any rate, reviewed their tactic books for ground attack and air supremacy operations. Some simply left early for the hanger.

Kerrigan forced us into the last option. I was irritated at it until Colonel Prin's squadron passed on their way to the hanger their planes were, at which point he coldly reminded his own squadron that, as Marines, they were supposed to be first. It was a rather vague compliment, but one I accepted regardless. The scene of missiles being loaded onto the planes reminded me just what we were doing.

"How bad do you think it will be?" I asked Heather and Tanya as we watched the personnel load two AGM-65 (air to ground missiles) on our planes in case we needed to assist the ground forces. We would probably be too high to be seriously threatened by enemy AA guns; the enemy missiles would most certainly be detected and destroyed in the first wave. But we might still be called on to assist the ground forces.

"Lazuria's military in poorly equipped." Tanya quipped. "They've even admitted it before." I nodded. She was right- Lazuria still used equipment dating back to the last war. They still regularly conducted drills with the visibly worn equipment. What little equipment Rubinelle still had from the era, save Sky Raiders, were either in reserve or used for training purposes. It was a sharp contrast- Rubinelle had spent recklessly on modernization, and Lazuria had spent too little- that worked to our advantage.

"Technique can amend the short comings of quality. Lazuria has a history of using inferior equipment to great effect." Heather reminded me unpleasantly of what I learned in history class.

"As long as we give it sufficient effort, we'll triumph." I tried to dismiss the worry forming in my stomach. _"It's just like a series of tests." _I tried to reason. _"One test after another that increase in difficulty."_ It may not have been the most humane comparison, but it did help me move once the signal to begin the operation came.

X Nate 7 Days after meteors X

One hour or two? I wasn't sure. All I could tell changed was that the fires the helicopter attack had caused had been put out. After that, nothing. No reinforcements, no enemy contact. Nothing had happened. We'd slipped back into cautious rather then panic.

"I don't get it." Marcus was flipping through and atlas and looking over a map. "Rubinelle is _huge_. There are hundreds of thousands of towns, thousands of cities, more then seven hundred highways and interstates, hundreds of rivers and two inland seas. We're about three hundred miles from the channel- the freaking _Capital _would be closer for them. So why are they bothering little old us?"

"So we don't become bandits." One of the machine gunners said. We looked at him. "You idiots need to watch more documentaries." He turned and faced us. "You're right, Rubinelle is huge- nearly a billion people live here. Same goes with Lazuria. They're so big, we'd half to mobilize a fourth of our population just to garrison the entire nation. Do you have any idea how expensive that would be?"

"Impossibly expensive." Eugene stated. The gunner nodded.

"Exactly. Things like industry and administration are still grouped together to make management easier. There's 16 State Capitals for each of the 16 states. Capture those, you cripple the state's ability to administer the territory. 20% of Rubinelle industry is based on the coast, and the first three largest cities in Rubinelle hold 10% each. That's half of all industrial output. And no matter how many waterways and roads there are, there are some that are the quickest route, the most used, and passes through the most cities. You all follow?" We all nodded.

"So you don't need to capture the entire country- if you just capture those hubs and routes, you already bring Rubinelle to its knees. But there is still 80% of the country free and 50% of its industrial output still operating. That's still a lot of weapon production capability and maybe some 550 million people; or one hell of a resistance."

"Living in the mountains and setting ambushes? Not the worse thing I've ever heard." Marcus commented. The gunner ignored him.

"So what they'd do is start bombing most- but not all- the cities, factories, and highways. People will then begin to move to the areas that weren't bombed."

"Concentrated." I realized. The gunner nodded.

"Not that stupid after all, eh? But yeah. It's basically an enormous herding effort to make controlling the country easier. And this town and highway just didn't get drawn in the lottery."

"But that's good, right?" I tired to twist it into good news. "They won't send ground troops after us?" The gunner shrugged.

"Maybe. This is a war, kid. Never assume anything. Aside from that, we're too far. Any troops that come will probably be airborne or heliborne."

"Well, we're in the right neighborhood for one of those!" Marcus looked off where the Hind had struck. I felt nervous again. An hour later, everyone was ordered to lower alert status. I allowed myself to relax slightly. Maybe I wasn't going to die after all.

The more I thought about it, the less and less running away looked like a good idea. I mean, I had a place to sleep. I had food. What did these people have before they…died? It would kill me if I left, but it would kill me eventually if I stayed. It wasn't fair! There had to be some way out of this. Some way…

"Platoon, attention!" Lieutenant Whitley appeared out of no where. We all jumped to our feet and stood at attention. "Pack up men. We're regrouping with the rest of the division." I didn't think I could've been more relieved in my life. "Wipe that smile off your face!" Whitley snapped at me. Startled, I lost my bearing and got yelled at again.

"Man, you really got it!" Marcus patted me on the shoulder as we loaded the trunk into the back of one of the trucks. I shrugged him off. What was wrong with soldiers? Did they actually want to die? "Don't stress man, everything's fine!"

"Humph." I ignored him as we sat down. He didn't try and get me to talk again. As the trucks kept moving, I pulled out Maria's letter again. It seemed impossible she could've wrote anything that hurt so much…

"Break up letter?" Someone asked.

"Huh?" I looked up at the Sergeant sitting across from me. "How did you-"

"Seen it a million times, kid." He grabbed the letter out of my hand, ignoring my complaint. He scanned over the whole thing in a few seconds and handed it back. "Live well, it is the best revenge." He told me.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Look, everyone at home hates you, right?" I nodded in embarrassment when everyone else seemed to look. "Then turn things around- make them _want_ you back."

"Want me?"

"Yes damn it." He leaned forward. "Look, what do you think they'd say if they saw you show up back home with a chest full of medals?"

"They'd…be impressed." I realized. They'd probably just be surprised that I lived. But… Now the Sergeant was grinning at me.

"They'd probably beg for forgiveness too, eh?" I nodded, more eagerly now. "Then show a little effort. Prove you ain't a complete screw up."

"Hell, lets all do that!" Marcus patted me on the back. "There are a lot of people who don't like us, am I right?" He managed to get a response from everybody. I'd seen protests and stuff on T.V, but I didn't think it was that prevalent.

"Alright, alright. Settle down!" Lieutenant Whitley snapped half heartedly. "Morale is important, but let's keep it professional." I felt a bit better now. I had to admit, thinking about it _did_ make it seem like a good idea.

My parents had always warned I wouldn't amount to nothing unless I became serious. Well, what about now? I mean, soldiers were always popular, weren't they? A lot of politicians use to be soldiers. They used them in advertising too. Being a soldier had its benefits.

Then I remembered what we were suppose to do as soldiers and my stomach dropped. I didn't want to kill anyone. There was no point to it. I seemed to notice that I was holding my rifle in my lap for the first time. I stared at it, almost surprised. I'd somehow managed to not notice all the gear I was wearing either.

"_It's almost like a itch."_ After a while, you didn't even realize it was there. I wonder if that meant that after a while, I wouldn't care?

XX Author's Note XX

Just a small update here- all the action is in the next chapter. I'm working on the next few chapters, but it is slow progress. I'm trying to study and create a military grid system for the story to give a certain degree of authenticity. I might as well be trying to understand nuclear physics; none of the words I read seem to stick.

Also, I'd like to address an error I made. I described Ryman as both Fleet Admiral and Ship Captain. That's incorrect as Captains usually command ships and Admirals command groups of said ships, though the ships individually fall under control of their Captains. I acknowledge the error and will not repeat it.


End file.
